Standing Ovation
by AngelicToxin
Summary: Nobody asked Dave to make sure Kurt was okay that night. Really, he wasn't even supposed to be there to begin with. But sometimes it's the coincidences that turn into larger moments. And sometimes, it's the moments that can change everything.  On Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Standing Ovation

**Rating: **T for language and safety. May increase in future chapters.

**Summary:** Nobody asked Dave Karofsky to make sure Kurt was okay that night. And, really, he wasn't even supposed to be there to begin with. But sometimes it's the coincidences in life that turn into larger moments. And as Kurt Hummel was about to find out, those moments are the ones that could change everything.

**Author's Note: **The idea for this story came to me shortly after watching "The First Time" because I couldn't help but think "What if?" And even though I had enough to be getting on with between school and other parts of my life, the idea just wouldn't let itself die. So, here we are. This story follows canon up until the night when Kurt and gang went to Scandals and departs from there. Initially Klaine, eventual Kurtofsky.

**Standing Ovation**

_Lately I'm alright_

_And lately I'm not scared_

_I've figure out that what you do to me feels like_

_I'm floating on air_

_I don't need to know right now_

_All I know is I believe_

_In the very thing that got us here_

_And now I can't leave_

Suspension by Mae

**Chapter One**

"Blaine!" Kurt watched his boyfriend stalk off into the darkness, fading into the black that matched Kurt's current mood. He was torn between running after him and crawling into his car and crying. This was not how tonight was supposed to turn out—it was supposed to just be a night for him to go out and rub his boyfriend in the face of that Sebastian fellow and have fun and just not worry about anything for once. Of course, he should have known that something would go wrong.

Even then, he couldn't have predicted that what would have gone wrong was this. Maybe he could have seen Sebastian trying to kiss Blaine in front of him or getting caught with the fake IDs he had provided but that would have been okay, because he would have had Blaine to help him through it. This was worse than anything he had expected. And things had been going so well until ten minutes ago! Spinning around, Kurt tried to collect his thoughts before he turned back to his car and saw—

"Dave." Kurt's breath hitched and he froze when he saw the other boy standing awkwardly near the hood of his car. Trying to formulate any sort of coherent response, Kurt shook his head to attempt to clear his mind. "Um, what... what are you doing?"

Dave shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, it's just that you dropped your phone inside and I figured you would probably want it..."

He trailed off, not meeting Kurt's eyes, staring instead at a small pothole in the parking lot. Kurt let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Oh. Thank you," he forced out, his voice unsteady. There was an awkward silence as each boy stood, unsure of what to say next and not able to fully look at each other. "I... How much did you see?"

Dave took in a deep breath, finally looking up at Kurt. The smaller boy saw a pained look in his eyes, mixed with something that he couldn't quite identify until Dave spoke—then he realized that it was an apology. "Pretty much all of it? I'm sorry, Kurt. I was just trying to give you your phone back and then I came out and he pulled you into the back seat and I... I'm sorry."

"It's... It's not your fault," Kurt replied, his face heating up in embarrassment. Why had anybody had to see that exchange, let alone Dave? "I just—I'm sorry that you had to see that."

"You shouldn't have to be sorry," Dave said, shaking his head, his voice still slightly uneven and shaky. He looked Kurt straight in the eye, however, as he continued. "Are you okay?"

The amount of genuine concern in his voice surprised Kurt and he looked up from where he had been staring at his car. "What? Oh, I..."

Kurt trailed off, playing with the keys in his hand. He had been so consumed by worrying for Blaine's safety, being embarrassed by the fact that Dave saw the encounter, being grateful that at least Dave had been the only one to see it, so distracted by these thoughts that he had not stopped to take himself into account. But now that Dave had asked him, he became keenly aware of the fact that he felt shaky on his feet and that his temples were throbbing forcefully. He tried to simply nod and play it off, taking a step toward the driver's door but the wobble in his step must have given him away. Before he could take a second step, Dave had stepped forward to put a reassuring and stabling hand on his shoulder. Still shaken from his encounter with Blaine, Kurt flinched without thinking, recoiling from his touch. Dave pulled his hand back like he had just touched a red-hot iron.

"Oh my god, Kurt, I'm so sorry!" Dave apologized immediately, his voice tight and slightly frantic. Kurt looked up into his face and saw that the other boy had paled visibly within the span of two seconds.

"No Dave, Jesus, I'm sorry!" Kurt said, reaching out and leaning up against the side of his car for stability. "I... It's not you, I'm just... I guess I'm more shaken up by what happened then I thought." When Dave still looked horrified by his actions, Kurt shook his head vehemently, trying to reassure him—but his voice betrayed him. "God, Dave please, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Jesus."

Dave's voice shook when he spoke again, though his face had relaxed at least slightly with Kurt's reassurance. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I—This isn't my place to—I wasn't thinking."

"No." Kurt shook his head vigorously again, still trying to balance himself against the side of his car. "It really wasn't your fault at all. I just need a minute."

Feeling his legs shake, Kurt finally gave in and sat down on the pavement, not caring about the fact that his outfit was now touching the dirty asphalt of the parking lot or that he hadn't bothered to check to make sure he wasn't sitting in anything vile. He leaned his head back against the cool metal of his car and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Beside him, he heard the sound of movement and when he cracked open his eyes again, Dave was sitting next to him quietly. Kurt felt a sudden rush of gratitude, knowing that the other boy didn't have to stay but was choosing to anyways.

"You know, if I had realized what was going on, I would have stepped in," Dave said quietly, staring out at the row of cars parked across from them.

"Yeah?" Kurt asked, rolling his head around to face Dave, though the other boy merely continued to gaze out into the darkness.

"Yeah," he said, glancing over and meeting Kurt's eyes briefly. Dave's shrug was slow and unexaggerated as he continued, "I mean, no one deserves to be treated like that, least of all someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Kurt asked quietly, picking at a loose thread on his shirt's hem. Dave laughed softly.

"Yeah, someone like you. You had to put up with enough of that sort of thing from me and I wasn't… I wasn't even your boyfriend. I think you've already filled your quota of being pushed around, especially since that quota should have been zero." There was a pause as Dave seemed to cast around for words. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Kurt muttered as the rest of Dave's words had sunk in. He chewed on his bottom lip slowly, processing what the other boy had said. His heart had finally begun to slow down and he took a deep breath. "Maybe it's because of you, but I think I can handle this. I just needed a little time to fully process it, you know?"

Dave just nodded, eyes searching Kurt's face for some cue as to what he was supposed to say next. When Kurt merely continued to sit quietly, Dave followed suit. They sat in silence for several minutes as the chill of the night sunk in. Unlike so many of their silences before, there was no strain in this one—just each of them sitting, wrapped in his own thoughts. After a time, Kurt glanced at his watch.

"I should be getting home. Do you have my phone?" His voice, even though it was quiet, seemed to jolt Dave out of a deep line of thought; the other boy jumped slightly, having to compose himself before speaking.

"Oh, right," he muttered, as though he had forgotten the reason that he had tracked Kurt down outside the bar in the first place. Digging around in his pockets, he found the device, pulled it out and handed it to Kurt. "Here."

"Thanks," Kurt said quietly, taking the phone from Dave and trying to ignore the feeling he got as their hands brushed, a combination of jumpiness and he desire to reach out and grab it. It was probably just his nerves still on edge from the encounter with Blaine earlier. Dave pushed himself off the ground and then turned, extending his hand to Kurt. Kurt stared at it for a few seconds before shaking off the thoughts in his head and taking it, allowing Dave to help pull him off the pavement. "Thanks."

Dave nodded, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. After a moment, he shifted from one foot to the other and asked, "Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home? I'm pretty sure that my ride left while I was out here talking to you."

"What? Oh..." Kurt paused for a moment. His gut instinct was to politely refuse Dave—certainly nobody could fault him for that. If someone had told him that Dave Karofsky would be asking for a ride home at the end of the night, he would have politely called them crazy and walked off. But he wouldn't have expected this night to gone this way, either. And once he thought about it, he really wasn't ready to be alone quite yet, no matter who his company was. And right now, he could name numerous people who would have been worse company than Dave. So, with a slight smile pulling the corners of his lips up, he nodded. "Sure."

"Thanks." Dave shuffled around the front of the car to the passenger side while Kurt climbed into the driver's seat, the resounding sound of the door closing echoing inside his head. As he turned on the car, his radio came on automatically, blasting at the loud volume that Blaine had had it turned to at the beginning of the night. Wincing slightly, Kurt turned it down quickly but not before Dave had looked over at him curiously. "Was that The Cars?"

"Um... yes," Kurt said, his eyebrows rising in slight surprise. "You know them?"

"Yeah!" Dave said, a grin springing up onto his face, looking incredibly relieved at having found something to smile at again. "I love them."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Dave teased, laughing lightly. "Your dad wasn't the only guy who spent a lot of time listening to the radio in the eighties. In fact, I find the fact that you like them far more surprising than the knowledge that I've heard of them."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue but then nodded his head slightly in agreement. "Okay, fair enough. You caught me."

"Seriously, I was surprised that it wasn't some random choir song belting out." Dave looked out the window as Kurt drove down the road back toward the east side of town. Kurt laughed quietly, surprised as the sound escaped his lips.

"I might have a soft spot for Barbra and Judy but that doesn't mean that I live completely in a show tunes bubble," he countered. "Especially considering the fact that I've lived with Finn Hudson for the past year."

"Man, given his stats, I'm surprised that he has time to listen to the radio. I would have thought that he was spending all of his time playing Call of Duty."

"Only when I'm not watching reruns of Friends on the T.V.," Kurt pointed out. Dave chuckled. They slipped back into a comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to force conversation. The novelty of the scene was not lost on Kurt and he still felt surprised by how well he and Dave were getting along, especially in light of the events of the night. But it was by no means a bad thing and he was happy to let Dave sit in silence next to him. He felt a slight pain in his chest as he passed the turn-off for Blaine's house, both hoping that the other boy had made it home safely and feeling strong resentment toward him simultaneously. But he was quickly distracted from this thought as Dave pointed out the window of the car, at a street sign on the right side of the road.

"You should probably turn here or else you're going to be driving in circles trying to get me home."

Kurt flipped on his car's turn signal and steered onto the road Dave had indicated. After a few minutes and a couple more turns, he looked at Dave curiously. "This is where you live?"

"Yeah," Dave replied, shrugging. "Why?"

"I don't know," Kurt found himself answering, glancing out the window. This part of Lima was one of the more upscale areas, not quite as nice as the neighborhoods surrounding Blaine's house but still more upscale than the homes around his own house. For some reason, he had pictured Dave living in a small house, just him, his father and his mother. The orderly lawns surrounding them as they drove didn't quite fit the image he'd had in mind. "I just expected something different."

"I guess I can get that," Dave said, playing with the zipper on his jacket. "But I've lived in the same house since I was five and this used to be on the edge of Lima. I guess as time passed, it kind of became the area for the nice suburbs. When we first moved here though, it didn't quite look like this."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh! That's me," Dave informed him, pointing at a house on the left. Kurt pulled into the driveway and glanced at the front door. The porch light had been left on, suggesting that Dave's late arrival was not unexpected. Dave was unbuckling himself and preparing to get out of the car when Kurt, unable to contain himself, asked, "Do your parents know where you're going when you leave to go to the bar?"

Dave paused, then shook his head slowly, eyes downcast slightly. "No. They think I'm hanging out with my friends on the football team. Which I do sometimes... just not always."

"Oh." Kurt paused, debating whether or not to ask his next question. When Dave didn't make a move to get out of the car, he threw caution to the wind. "So do your parents know about... have you told them?"

Dave turned away, looking out the window at the house in front of them. Quietly, he said, "No. I'm working on it but right now, I'm just happy to show that side of me at the bar. I don't think my family is ready to hear it yet. And I don't think I'm ready to tell them."

His straightforward honesty surprised Kurt, who sat quietly for a moment. He wasn't really sure what to say and fiddled with his keys quietly. "That's progress."

Dave turned back to look at him, his eyes meeting Kurt's own. There was a quiet determination in them that Kurt had not expected but was discovered that he was happy to see. When Dave spoke, his voice was similarly quiet but strong. "Baby steps, remember?"

Kurt nodded. Dave opened his door slowly. Before he could step out, Kurt reached out and touched him lightly on the hand. "Dave..."

Dave's eyes widened at the contact and snapped back onto Kurt's face. Kurt smiled softly, forcing himself to shake off the look of discontent that he was sure he had been wearing moments before. "Thanks."

Dave's face broke into a relieved smile and he shook his head lightly. "Really, it was nothing. Thank you for the ride. But Kurt?"

Kurt looked at him questioningly but said nothing.

"Look. I don't want to overstep but I put my number in your phone. If... if your boyfriend... or anyone else tries anything like that..." He trailed off, seeming a little uncertain of himself. Kurt gave him what he hoped was an encouraging look and Dave continued slowly. "If somebody tries to pull something like that on you again, call me. Okay?"

Kurt nodded, eyes still locked with Dave's. After a beat, he whispered, "Okay."

Seeming content with that response, Dave shut the door and turned to walk toward his front door. Kurt watched him retreat toward the house, not quite ready to pull out of his driveway. When Dave reached the door, he turned, raising his hand and giving a small half-wave. Kurt returned the gesture, feeling a genuine smile spread across his face for the first time since exiting the bar almost an hour before. After Dave shut the door, Kurt stayed in the driveway, sinking momentarily into a state of being lost in his own thoughts. When the porch light went out a minute later, he shook his head, shifted his car into reverse and backed into the road.

A short ride later, he was home, peeking into the kitchen to see his father still awake and sitting at the kitchen counter. He walked into the room, going straight to the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of orange juice. Burt looked up from his newspaper as Kurt pulled a glass out of the cabinets above the counter and set it down with a clink.

"You're back a little later than I expected," Burt commented, looking at his watch pointedly.

"Yeah, sorry," Kurt replied distractedly. "I had a few unexpected bumps along the way tonight that took a little more time than I had expected."

"You look terrible," Burt noted, surveying Kurt carefully. Kurt caught his reflection in the glass as he poured his orange juice and realized that he did look incredibly worn and tired. He shook his head, turning and forcing a smile as he looked at his dad.

"I'm fine. It was just a long night." He hugged his father lightly before draining his glass in a few large gulps. As he rinsed it out in the sink, Burt came up behind him and patted him strongly on the shoulder. Kurt stifled a slight flinch at the touch, the events of the night still not fully gone from his mind.

"Alright. I'm going to bed. You should too."

"Of course," Kurt said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, kiddo," Burt replied. Kurt leaned against the counter, listening as his father's footsteps receded up the stairs. He watched as the hallway light was turned off and the door to his father and Carole's room shut, echoing disproportionately loudly in the silent house. Sighing, he put his clean glass on the drying rack beside the sink and left the kitchen. After descending the stairs into his basement bedroom, he dropped onto his bed, suddenly exhausted. Lying back, he scrolled through the messages on his phone. There was one from Mercedes asking for details about his big night and three from Blaine, but he ignored all of these. Instead, he found himself looking through his contacts for Dave's name. Pausing only momentarily to think, he typed out a quick message and sent it: _"Thanks__again.__For__everything."_

Putting his phone on his bedside table, Kurt sped through his nightly skin care regimen and changed into the silk pajamas that he reserved for occasions when he wanted to sleep particularly well. As he slipped into bed, he thought that the softness of his sheets had never been more reassuring. He was just falling asleep when his phone vibrated against the hard wood of the table next to his head. Sleepily, he pulled the phone off the table and into his hand, checking to see who the message was from. Seeing that it was from Dave, he flipped the phone open. Reading the content of the message, Kurt found himself smiling as he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

_"Of course. You too. Thank you… for everything."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow, guys, I can only say that I've been completely taken aback by the overwhelming responses I've gotten to this story. Hopefully, you'll stick around for more because there's lots more to come. I will warn you that the next couple chapters are largely set-up without a ton of action but stick with me here! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter Two**

The next morning when his alarm went off, Kurt woke up far more tired than he had been expecting. Despite having just woken up, he already had a headache and the incessant beeping of his alarm clock was not helping. It was when he reached over to slap the snooze button on the alarm that he caught sight of his phone out of the corner of his eye—and remembered what had happened the night before.

Groaning, Kurt rolled over and buried his head into his pillow. He felt like crawling back under his covers and not reemerging for about a week, longer if it took more time for everybody to forget what had happened. With a pang, he realized that might not even be necessary; he off-handedly wondered if he would be the only one who did remember. Blaine had certainly been drunk enough that it was possible for him to have forgotten. Kurt would kill him if that happened. The only thing worse than facing Blaine and talking about what had happened the night before would have been attempting to talk to Blaine and having him not remember any of it. And Dave... well, he hadn't seemed that drunk; in some respects, he had seemed to have more presence of mind than Kurt last night, despite the fact that he had been drinking and Kurt had not.

When his alarm went off again, signaling that his ten minutes snooze period was officially over, Kurt had to restrain the impulse to chuck the thing across the room and go back to sleep. He could tell his father that he had the flu or bronchitis or perhaps polio. But, then he remembered that he had a French test and a calculus quiz that he couldn't make up. And tonight was the opening—

Oh God. On top of everything else, tonight was the opening for West Side Story. Why did that have to be today? It crossed Kurt's mind to be incredibly unhappy about the fact that something he had been looking forward to for weeks was going to be ruined by the events of the night before. But the thought was fleeting. He was quickly distracted by the thought that today was not the day for attempting to make amends for everything that had happened. If he disrupted Blaine's mental focus, the other boy was sure to blame him for it for the rest of the year, if not longer. And even though a not-particularly-small part of him absolutely hated Blaine at the moment, he didn't want to cause that much trouble.

"Kurt?"

Finn's voice interrupted his thoughts suddenly and Kurt frowned, his face still buried in his pillow.

"What?" he snapped, feeling only slightly guilty at taking out his frustration on Finn. When he turned his head to look at the boy standing at the top of the stairs, he could tell that Finn had not been expected the harsh response and he sighed, already feeling a bit worse, if that was possible. Finn stuttered slightly as he responded, looking unsure of what type of response he was going to get back from the boy still sulking in bed.

"U-um, my mom was just wondering what you wanted for breakfast, since you're running late." Finn bit his lower lip and fidgeted as he waited for a response from Kurt, who merely turned his face back into his pillow.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled into the pillow, not bothering to speak up.

"What?" Finn asked.

Kurt sighed, rolled his eyes dramatically even though nobody could see it and pushed himself away from the warm fabric of his bed so that he was propped up, facing the wall behind him. "I said, just some cereal would be fine. Thanks."

Finn exited the room in a hurry—Kurt saw him trip over the edge of the doorframe in his haste to leave the room. Figuring that this was his cue to start what was bound to be a day of hell, Kurt dragged himself out of bed, stumbling slightly to the vanity sitting across the room from his bed. Plopping himself into the stool in front, he worked up the courage to look at his reflection.

He looked like he had been run over by a bus repeatedly in his sleep; he couldn't remember the last time his eyes had had such dark circles underneath them, the last time his eyes themselves had been so bloodshot or when his hair had been quite such a mess. When he remembered that he hadn't had the opportunity to shower the night before either… Kurt groaned, running his hands over his face. It was going to be a long day.

A half-hour later, he was sitting in the back seat of Finn's truck as they drove to school, Rachel having claimed the passenger seat as usual and Kurt having not put up a fight—also as usual. He tuned out her incessant babbling and focused on consuming the bagel in his hand. Despite his protests that he hadn't been hungry, Carole had forced it into his hand as he had left that house this morning. He had managed to escape the lecture on growing bodies and proper nutrition that he had been sure would have been forthcoming had he stuck around to hear it by pointing out that Finn was, for once, actually on time. Of course, had he known that it was because Rachel (once again) needed a ride, he might have suffered through the lecture to avoid the far worse pain of having to share a cramped space with the girl this early in the morning.

"...you think, Kurt?"

"What?" Kurt snapped his attention back onto Rachel, who had apparently asked him a question that he had just as apparently not heard.

"I said, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About my portrayal of Maria's first encounter with Tony! It's one of the pivotal points of the musical and I just don't think that I'm doing it justice right now. Or at least, Artie doesn't think I am."

"You're doing it fine," Kurt replied, gazing out the window.

"Well, I agree but... Kurt!" Kurt turned his head to see that Rachel had spun around in her seat and was staring at him intently. "Are you okay? You're acting really strange this morning."

"I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep."

"Are you sure? Because I can understand if you're stressed about the musical. I mean, you have a minor role but opening nights can still—"

"I said I'm fine, Rachel," Kurt said snappishly.

Looking hurt, Rachel pulled back a bit in surprise. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly but all she said was, "If you say so."

She turned back to Finn, who had been nervously tapping his steering wheel during their exchange and restarted her badgering, this time mercifully leaving Kurt out of it. He resumed his blank stare out the window until he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Without bothering to check the name of who sent it, he flipped it open and saw that it was from Blaine. Resisting the urge to shove the phone back into his pocket without reading the message, he instead glanced down at what it said.

_"In case you didn't get this from the other messages and voicemail I left you, I'm sorry. We should talk."_

Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine was damn right that he was sorry, as he should have been. Kurt hovered his thumbs over the keypad of his phone, trying to decide what to respond. About a dozen ideas came to mind immediately, but even in his frustrated state, he realized that none of them would do anything to relieve his stress over the long run—even if they had that impact in the short term. Instead, he simply wrote,

_"Okay. Where are you? I'm almost at school."_

Within seconds, there was a response waiting.

_"In the choir room. Come when you get here."_

Kurt was reluctant to immediately agree to meet him in the choir room. After all, he had really hoped to keep this conversation absolutely private; as far as he was concerned, the fewer people who knew about the previous night's incident, the better. And this time of morning, various members of the Glee Club tended to filter in and out— the room was quite central to the high school and thus made a great meeting spot in the morning before everybody had to disperse to their various classes. So, he responded,

_"Can we meet in the auditorium instead? Less noise."_

After his lightning-fast response moments before, it worried Kurt slightly when Blaine didn't immediately respond. Just as Finn was pulling his truck into the school parking lot though, he finally got a terse response.

_"Fine."_

Sighing in slight relief, Kurt stowed away his phone in his pocket and waited slightly impatiently for Rachel to let him out of the backseat. As soon as he was free, he grabbed his backpack and started to make his way toward the auditorium. Checking the time on a clock as he hurried by, he realized that there were only fifteen minutes until the start of the first period. Maybe this wasn't the right time to have this conversation. Maybe he should postpone it until lunch, when they would have a little more time to actually talk.

But as soon as he arrived in the auditorium and saw Blaine leaning against the back wall, this thought evaporated. It was clear just from his body language that the other boy did not intend to put off this conversation and no amount of attempted persuasion by Kurt was going to change his mind. So Kurt went and stood next to him. He didn't speak, waiting for Blaine to initiate the conversation. After all, he was the one who had something to apologize for; Kurt was just here to accept that apology, so long as he thought he meant it. However, Blaine didn't speak and after a minute had evaporated, Kurt finally broke the silence, remembering that they were slightly pressed for time. "Well?"

"Well..." Blaine turned to face him, expression unreadable. "Okay, I'm sorry for last night, Kurt. I was drunk and I was stupid and you didn't deserve that."

"That's a good start," Kurt informed him, before he had a chance to realize what he was saying. When he processed his response thought, he bit his bottom lip. Maybe that hadn't been the best way to start a conciliatory talk. If Blaine had been put off by it though, he put on a good front of not showing it and continued anyways, his eyes slowly grooming Kurt's face for a reaction.

"I... I was stupid, okay? I was thinking about everything you said as I walked home last night and it all made sense. You were right that I shouldn't have been dancing with Sebastian and that it wasn't the right time but I was just upset."

"You— you were upset?" Kurt choked out, wondering if he'd heard him correctly. Surely he had misheard and Blaine had actually said something about understanding exactly why Kurt had been upset with him? But his initial suspicion was confirmed as Blaine threw his hands up.

"Yes, I was upset! How do you think I felt watching you over at the bar talking to your bully as if it was nothing instead of dancing with me?"

"My bully? Instead of dancing with you?" Kurt asked with a mixture of indignity and incredulousness, his temper starting to rise. This had not been the conversation he had been expecting and the fact that Blaine wasn't owning up to his actions irked him greatly—sure, Kurt had made mistakes in the relationship, but at least he had been mature enough to take responsibility for his actions. "What about if you had come and asked me to dance instead, like a proper gentleman? No, instead, you were over getting down with Sebastian!"

"Please, Kurt, don't try to justify yourself by blaming that on me. If you'd come over earlier, I would have danced with you earlier. If you noticed, as soon as you came over, you were the only one I had any attention for."

"As soon as I came over?" Kurt replied, his voice taking on a hard edge as he felt himself beginning to flush in anger. "You should have come to me first! It's not my job to babysit you and make you pay attention to me. I was paying attention to you, so why couldn't you return the favor?"

Blaine's face was also growing red and Kurt could see him starting to visibly tense up. Blaine took a step closer to Kurt, pushing a finger lightly into his chest. "I shouldn't have had to ask you to come over. You should have wanted to spend time with me instead of that obnoxious bully who was trying to distract you."

"Obnoxious bully? Dave? I'll have you know that last night Dave—"

"Dave?" Blaine asked, a tone of derision entering his voice.

"Yes, Dave!" Kurt responded, practically shouting. He planted his hands firmly in Blaine's chest and pushed him away, not wanting to have anything to do with him. "Dave did a whole lot more for me than you last night. And until you realize this was not my fault, I don't think I can continue this conversation."

As if on cue, the bell signaling three minutes before the start of class rang. Kurt picked up his bag from the floor and angrily threw it over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back at Blaine as he stalked out of the auditorium, fuming. He couldn't believe Blaine! Sure, he hadn't expected flowers and chocolates and lots of apology kisses but he had expected a lot more than that load of bullshit!

He stormed down the hallway to his first class, wanting desperately to kick something but refraining, as the only suitable options were a bunch of freshman loitering near the entrance to one of their classes. He dropped into his seat in his first period biology class, not making eye contact with anybody. When the teacher began to take attendance, he merely raised his hand to demonstrate his presence, a far cry from the friendly greeting that he usually offered the teacher to begin the class.

The teacher barely noticed though and as he continued down the roster, Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled rapidly through his inbox. Pounding down the keys with a vigor that was unfair to his phone, he quickly typed out a message and sent it, making sure that he was done before the teacher finished attendance and the announcements had come over the intercom—the last thing he needed to make this morning even worse was to get in trouble for texting in class.

_"Remind me to thank you next time I see you for not being a total asshole."_

By the time the class was over, Kurt had finally calmed down some, though he was still probably the worst lab partner in the room that day. He had been able to take out some of his anger on the fetal pig they were dissecting this week; while it wasn't a particularly productive way of taking out his anger and he had been given a warning by his teacher not to cut the skin with such force, it had still be cathartic. When the bell rang signaling the end of class, he had collected his stuff and left without bothering to write down the homework for the night; he could always get it from Mercedes or Tina later. He was maneuvering between groups of students in the hallway, taking the long way to his French course to avoid having to see Blaine, when he felt a buzz in his pocket. Whipping out his phone, he couldn't help but smile when he saw Dave's name in his inbox again... part of him had expected the other boy to never talk to him again, last night having been the extent of their friendly interactions for a long time to come.

_"Thanks, I guess? And does this mean that you actually want to see me 'a next time'?"_

Despite fully recognizing that Dave's text was not in any manner a come-on, Kurt stilled blushed slightly. He had been in such an impulsive mood when he had sent his first text that he hadn't bothered to proofread it or think about what it said at all. Had he even really meant what he had said? On one hand, he didn't think so. As had been proven by Blaine's little outburst earlier, his life was probably far easier without Dave in it. He didn't have to worry about what people were thinking when they saw the pair of them talking in the hall, he didn't have to deal with Blaine's dislike of the other boy on a regular basis and he didn't have to constantly reassure people that Dave was no longer harassing him. No, life was a lot simpler without Dave Karofsky in it. And yet...

He was surprised to find how happy he had been to see Dave last night. And not just see him but to realize that he was starting to sort his life out and come to terms with himself. Kurt couldn't help but feel as though he had had some role in that, as the only person who had known about Dave's sexuality before he had started going to the gay bar—besides Blaine, anyhow, and Kurt didn't really want to count him since he didn't like Dave and refused to give him a chance. Kurt didn't know if he was ready to voluntarily remove himself from a place where he could continue to interact with Dave, even if it was only once in a blue moon.

Rereading the text, he was slightly surprised by Dave's forwardness in responding though, even despite his errors in checking the content of his initial text (or the error of sending it at all). After all, he had never been a particularly eloquent guy in his McKinley days and Kurt doubted he had ever heard him be as blunt as he had been while harassing him. He had always equated that straight-forwardness with the bully in Dave but maybe it crept over into the rest of his personality as well. Shaking off these thoughts, he typed in a quick message before his second class began and he had to take his test,

_"I think so? Is that a good enough answer? And yes, it really was a compliment."_

Kurt found it hard to focus on his French test with everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. He had to stop himself more than once from making a very elementary mistake in conjugation or translation. It didn't help that the paragraphs that they were supposed to be reading all centered around a couple in love— if he had ever thought that the people who wrote these things had a wicked sense of irony, now was that time. It didn't help that he was in this class with Quinn. He could tell from the instant that he had walked in that she had heard something about he and Blaine's fight that morning. She kept trying to make eye contact with him as the teacher was handing out the tests and even when they were working on them, he could tell that she wasn't fully focused either. He had hoped to sneak out at the end of the period and avoid having to actually talk to her, but he wasn't that lucky. Their French teacher was a very organized woman; they handed in their papers in alphabetical order, which meant that Quinn was finished before him and was able to intercept him as he left the room.

"Kurt, stop." Her quiet tone successfully halted him, despite his intentions to blow by her no matter what she said. Kurt looked at the blonde questioningly, wondering why she seemed so calm compared to the tense state that she had seemed to be perpetually living in since returning to Glee.

"What do you want, Quinn?" he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. After all, she was just an innocent bystander and no matter how much he wanted to just snap at everybody right now, it wouldn't have been fair to her.

"I know you and Blaine had a fight this morning," she started. When Kurt opened his mouth to protest and cut her off with some explanation, she lightly put her hands over his mouth and gave him such an understanding look that he was unable to form the words he had been about to string together. "I was in the auditorium with Artie, working on some last-minute stuff for the play tonight and I caught the end of it when I was getting ready to go to English."

"What is it with the whole world suddenly having to intrude on everything that Blaine and I do?" Kurt asked exasperatedly. Quinn laughed quietly.

"I know exactly what it's like to have everybody trying to pry into the details of your relationship with somebody and trust me, unless you're secretly having his baby, you really don't know just what that's like." She pushed a strand of hair out her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her gaze was fairly intense and Kurt could feel her trying to analyze him. "Look, I know that lately everybody has been talking to Blaine and trying to see if he's ready for tonight but… Kurt?"

She paused and didn't continue until he looked up, finally meeting her gaze. "I know how hard you've been working and how hard it is to watch somebody else shine. Again, I've been there." She laughed slightly hollowly. "And it's no fun watching somebody else succeed, especially if you know that you should be happy for them. So I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

"What?" Kurt asked quietly, completely taken-aback by Quinn's words. She smiled lightly, reaching out and touching him softly on the arm.

"Are you okay? I know that everybody's treating Blaine like he's the hottest commodity but that's what always happens. It was the same on the Cheerios. Some new girl comes in and is wildly successful at first… and everybody thinks she's amazing and should have all the main stunts. But after a while, the novelty wears off and we're back to where we started. So hold in there. Okay?"

With a reassuring smile, she squeezed his arm lightly and disappeared into the mess of people wandering through the hall. Kurt found himself nodding, answering her despite the fact that she had already left. He wasn't sure if Quinn had made him feel any better but he certainly didn't feel any worse—and that was more than anybody else had said to him throughout the process of putting on West Side Story. It was certainly better than being laughed at when he had tried to demonstrate his ability to play the "tough, straight male" that the directors had apparently been looking for.

So he smiled lightly, the edges of his mouth working up despite the fact that he still felt pretty terrible. As he started to wander through the halls again, he pulled his phone out of his backpack, where he had tucked it away to prevent any temptation during class. He saw that he had a message from Blaine but he ignored it; if he really wanted to talk, he could come find him—Kurt was done trying to be the bigger person. Instead, he tapped down one more name in his inbox, his smile becoming more genuine as he saw another text waiting.

_"As long as it works for you, it works for me."_

There was another message, more recent than that one, as though Dave had been worried about the fact that Kurt hadn't responded and had thought that he had maybe said the wrong thing.

_"When?"_

Kurt smiled. Maybe there were still some things left to smile about in the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** So, originally chapters three and four were one chapter but I usually like to break off my word count per chapter around 5,000 words and since it was more than that, I split it. However, I'm putting up both at the same time so you get it together anyways!

**Chapter Three**

Kurt sat on his stool backstage, fidgeting lightly. There were only about fifteen minutes until the curtains were supposed to go up and Artie was still nowhere to be found. He had expected the wheelchair-bound boy to be wheeling frantically around the area, making sure that every little detail was correct. But now, with the opening moment ticking steadily closer, he was nowhere to be seen. Kurt glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked good, much better than he had looked all day. Even if he had been denied any type of major role, he was still going to be taking part in one of his favorite musicals of all time and he couldn't deny that it felt good.

There had been an awkward run-in with Blaine when he had first arrived, as each of them was trying to get ready—though of course, Blaine had far more to do and to be nervous about. He had looked apologetic and had opened his mouth to speak to Kurt as he had come through the door to the auditorium but Kurt had merely shook his head, muttering that they could talk later. He refused to let something else derail him when he had finally gotten his focus back. He pulled the brim of his policeman's hat down lower on his forehead, adjusting it nervously for about the eightieth time. He was just about to go look for Artie or Coach Beiste when he finally saw him wheel into the backstage space, everybody else beginning to congregate around him. Kurt picked up his baton and went to join them, standing between Quinn and Mike, across the circle from Blaine.

"Well, this is it. Is everybody ready?" Artie asked, surveying them all. Kurt followed his eyes around the circle. Most people looked a mixture of nervous and excited, like he himself felt. Rachel looked downright terrified—for somebody who spent every waking hour dreaming of being on the big stage, he reflected, she didn't seem particularly composed right now. A few people with smaller roles looked excited and happy, no sign of any nerves showing on their faces. When nobody answered, Artie seemed to be satisfied. "I'll take that as a yes. Ready to bring the house down?"

There were a couple chuckles that rippled around the circle. Artie was about the wheel out when Rachel spoke up, her voice squeaky at first but gaining more and more confidence as she continued to talk. "I know that not all of us are in New Directions or even any Glee club, but maybe we could do some sort of cheer as a group. I don't think any of us would be here right now if it weren't for everybody else, especially you, Artie."

Artie smiled bashfully and Kurt couldn't help but be slightly surprised by Rachel's sharing of the spotlight. He nodded his consent with everybody else though because there was a strong truth to the girl's words. The people who had come together to put on this production seemed to be in constant tension with each other off the stage, especially between the members of New Directions and Santana. But they had all been content to work as one group to put on the production, with Artie holding them all together—and the end result, if their dress rehearsal had been any indication, was well worth it.

"Alright," Artie said, raising his hand. Everybody else threw theirs on top, creating a massive pile of hands and limbs as everybody crowded around to try to fit themselves into the circle. Artie grinned and joked, "Jets on three?"

"No way!" said somebody playing one of the Sharks as most of the people in the group chuckled. Kurt realized that Artie's light manner was probably exactly what the group needed; some people were visibly becoming more relaxed as they laughed.

"Okay, okay," Artied agreed, smiling. "In that case, 'break a leg' on three. One, two, three!"

"Break a leg!" The group's cheer was louder than expected, even though everybody was whispering.

"Alright, back to business. Places everybody! Rachel, Blaine, can I talk to you for a second?" Artied wheeled off to a back corner of the stage, Blaine and Rachel following him. Kurt watched them go out of the corner of his eye as the members of the Jets began to take their marks on the stage for the opening number, trying to quell the lingering bits of jealousy he had for Blaine's role. As Artie began to talk to them though, he shook his head, reminding himself to stay focused. No, it hadn't been easy to watch Blaine rehearse every number in Tony's shoes while he himself merely chased people around stage, admonishing them for being such obnoxious delinquents. Still, he had his role and he was going to play it well— whether or not anybody actually cared. Barbra had never let any off-screen tension get in the way of her performance and neither would he.

The first act passed smoothly, everybody remembering their lines and, more importantly, their dance steps. Kurt had been so focused the first time that he had appeared on stage that he hadn't bothered to look into the crowd to see if his family were there. But in his second scene, he was lurking around the back of the stage for a good couple of minutes before he was supposed to emerge to say his lines. While he waited, he skimmed the crowd.

It was hard to make out the faces of anybody past the first couple rows because of the darkness of the theater but he stilled thought he could make out his father and Carole sitting toward the middle of the auditorium. He smiled slightly. It felt good knowing that they were there to watch him; Finn, after all, had his football game and Kurt had known that they would go to that because it was a really big game—for some reason that he couldn't remember, he thought slightly guiltily. They could have very easily gone home after sitting in the cold for an hour or two because the play was being put on for more than one night. But they had come, and that thought alone gave Kurt far more confidence in his performance than he would have expected.

It felt good to perform and have people enjoy it. For a while, he had resented his casting choice—after all, if nobody could picture him as the straight male lead, how was he supposed to be believable as the bumbling cop who was chasing after hooligans all night? But it worked and he got the proper reactions out of the audience members at the right time. And it did feel good.

After the final bows, he was bustling around backstage trying to make sure not to forget anything in the general chaos of the crowd. People's parents were beginning to filter backstage, adding to the mayhem that had already existed as people congratulated everybody else on a successful show and discussed excitedly how much better it had gone than expected. Rachel's dads had already brought her a bouquet of flowers that was so enormous, he wondered vaguely how that had managed to fit it through the double doors of the auditorium. Finn was also with them, which meant that somewhere around here was...

He was engulfed in a one-armed hug from the side as Burt came up to him. "Good job out there, buddy. Usually musicals aren't really my thing but you kids did a great job at putting this on."

"Thanks, dad," Kurt replied gratefully, hugging him back. "I thought I could have had a slightly smoother transition after one of my cues but—"

"Are you kidding me?" Burt interrupted. "That was great! Trust me, if you did screw something up, you were the only person who noticed."

Kurt smiled at him warmly as Carole took his place in the hug. "You really were great up there. Everybody was. Part of me wishes Finn had taken part in it but he's so busy already that it wouldn't have been good for him. Besides, you were worth coming for."

"Thanks," Kurt said, blushing slightly at their praise. He grabbed his small bag, with his keys, phone and other trivial objects that he had brought with him in it. "Hey, I'm going to go find Blaine... say good job."

"Alright," Carole said. "I'm going to go tell Rachel that she did a wonderful job. I've never seen another production of West Side Story other than the original film but I thought she made a great Maria."

"Yeah," Kurt said, surveying Rachel lightly. While he had been a bit caught in the middle with all the drama and tension the role had caused between the girl and Mercedes, he had harbored more than just a little bit of resentment toward her. But she had done a fantastic job, especially since her vocal range didn't exactly match that classically looked for in the role. He slung his bag lightly over his shoulders and told his dad, "Well, I guess I should go find Blaine. I'll meet you at home."

"Okay," Burt replied. He looked at Kurt carefully. "Are you sure you're okay? The Kurt that I raised would not have still been here at his stool when we came backstage to look for him—he would have been celebrating a great performance with his boyfriend and been in the center of attention."

"What?" Kurt asked, grimacing inward slightly at how well his father knew him. But he put on a smile, unsurprised at how easily it came after over two hours of acting and putting on an outward display of emotions that he wasn't really feeling. "Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Before his father had a chance to respond, which Kurt was absolutely positive he was going to, he disappeared into a throng of celebrating Sharks, accidentally stepping on a toe or two in the process.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said apologetically as a few people complained, but everybody was so happy at having put on a good first show that any anger was rapidly forgotten. Kurt spotted Blaine talking with his parents, his own bouquet in hand. Ignoring the slight stab of jealousy that he felt, Kurt put on a wide smile and walked up to the trio.

"Hello, Blaine, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," he greeted as politely as possible. He had met Blaine's parents a few times over the summer, albeit briefly while he had waited for Blaine to finish getting ready to go wherever they were headed that night, but he hadn't seen them recently. Shaking their hands lightly, he asked, "Do you mind if I borrow him for a second?"

Both of them shook their heads, his mother saying, "Not at all. You looked good up there, Kurt. I just wished I'd had another opportunity to hear you sing."

She turned to Blaine as Kurt tried to refrain from commenting that he would have enjoyed that, too. "We'll be waiting in the car. We're parked in the big parking lot, right next to the reserved parking spaces."

"Alright. I'll be out soon," Blaine responded, his eyes focused on Kurt rather than his parents. As the couple disappeared into the thinning crows, Blaine turned to look at Kurt.

Kurt began to speak, feeling as though he should initiate the conversation since he had been the one to ensure that it happened. "Blaine, I—"

"No, Kurt. I'm sorry. I was really out of line yesterday... and this morning," Blaine said, cutting across him and speaking rapidly, the words slightly jumbled as they came out of his mouth. "I just wasn't thinking when I said those things this morning. I thought about it all day, especially when you didn't come to lunch. I'm so sorry."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but found that he didn't have any words readily available, since he had not been expecting a straightforward apology from Blaine. After a moment, however, he regained his composure and looked down into Blaine's eyes. "Well... thanks."

He wanted desperately to add something along the lines of, 'because you were kind of an ass and I felt perfectly justified in treating you the way I did even if you didn't realize why that was.' However, he realized that now was probably not the appropriate time. Maybe later, when they were in private, he could tell Blaine exactly how he had felt about the ordeal; after all, there was that saying that said history was bound to repeat itself. But now wasn't that time. Instead, he just smiled lightly. "I'm really glad that you just got that off your chest and I didn't have to say anything to drag it out. Because then I probably would've been a lot more pissed off. And I'm sorry for avoiding you all day. I just couldn't face another argument."

Blaine nodded. "I know. And that's also probably my fault. But I didn't really think about that this morning. I just... I knew I was wrong, Kurt, but it was so hard for me to admit that when you're so... gosh, you're just so perfect and you hardly ever do anything wrong and it was just hard."

"What do you mean, hardly ever?" Kurt asked, teasingly even if his voice still had a slightly hard edge to it. "I never do anything wrong."

Blaine laughed and took a step closer. "You're right. I should have said, you're perfect and everything you do is wonderful."

"I thought I proved that tonight with my performance," Kurt replied. He wasn't going to lie— of course he was searching for compliments. But he felt justified in doing so considering Blaine's behavior in the past twenty-four hours. And maybe Blaine understood that because he commented,

"You know, I've never seen a production of West Side Story where Officer Krupke outshone Tony but I think I might just have." He took another step forward, closing the distance between them and, before Kurt could respond, pushed his lips lightly onto his. Kurt's first instinct was to not kiss him back; just because he had been willing to joke about tonight's performance and forgive Blaine did not in any way mean that he was ready to completely forget his actions the night before. But the current kiss was so much nicer than the night before, zero pushiness involved, that he felt that he couldn't spoil the moment. Besides, this was the first time that Blaine had ever kissed him in public, even if they were half-shielded from the rest of the backstage area by the curtain. After a moment or two, Blaine pulled away, picking up his bouquet from where he had placed it in the floor.

"I should go. My parents are probably waiting for me. I'll see you tonight at the after-party? I think I heard that it was at Artie's house but maybe it was Quinn's..." Blaine trailed off, looking slightly puzzled. Kurt shook his head, smiling slightly.

"It's definitely at Quinn's—I remember her mentioning that her mom was out of town."

"Great." Blaine flashed him a dashing smile that, despite the anger that was still buried inside, beneath the forgiveness, made Kurt smile too. "Do you want a ride?"

"Oh! No, I..." Kurt trailed off, fidgeting slightly. Deciding that what Blaine didn't know wouldn't hurt, he shook his head. "No, I have somebody else to tell thanks for coming and I promised Artie that I would help the tech people shut the place down when people left."

"Okay," Blaine said, completely buying into Kurt's white lie. It was a lie of addition but Kurt figured that since he had almost agreed to help Artie, it was close enough to the truth. Turning, he exited the auditorium out the back door, grinning over at Kurt as he left. Kurt watched him leave and then glanced at the clock on his cell phone. His mood sunk a little—it was later than he had thought and his conversations with his parents and Blaine had taken longer than anticipated. So without bothering to finish cleaning the area around his stool, he dropped his police hat onto the pile of props lying near the curtain and slipped out onto the stage.

The auditorium was bright, all the lights having been turned on, and mostly empty, people either having moved their conversations into the hall outside or having left completely. But there were still a few people lingering around the corners of the room and it was these people whose faces Kurt scanned quickly, trying to identify without staring. He should have known though, that he would have no trouble identifying Dave's face and he felt a grin slide onto his face when he saw him sitting in one of the chairs toward the back of the auditorium. He had waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Kurt quickly descended the steps, off the stage and onto the main floor of the auditorium. As he drew closer to Dave, he wondered why the other boy was doing nothing to acknowledge his presence— as he came to stand even with his row, he saw that he was reading something on his phone, the screen illuminated. Once Kurt had entered the row of seats, however, Dave looked up and, seeing him, shut the phone and put it in his pocket, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey," he greeted as Kurt dropped into the seat beside him, figuring that there was no harm in it, since virtually nobody was left in the auditorium anyways.

"Hi," Kurt said, a little too enthusiastically. He could feel his face flush lightly as he looked at Dave. "I can't believe you actually came!"

Dave shrugged. "You mentioned it in your text earlier and since we didn't have a game tonight, I figured I might as well come."

"I just didn't expect you to come to a musical on a Friday night. I figured you would be doing something with your friends from your new school," Kurt replied. Dave shifted slightly in his seat, though the movement was so slight that Kurt barely noticed it and thought nothing of it. "But thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Besides, it could have been a far worse musical. At least there are gangs and knife fights in this one. It could have been like... My Fair Lady or something," Dave responded, chuckling slightly at the mildly incredulous look on Kurt's face. "What? I may not spend my weekends watching reruns of The Sound of Music, but I'm not completely oblivious to musical theater. I do have a sister, you know."

"Oh." In fact, Kurt hadn't known that. In fact, the statement resonated with him because he suddenly realized that he really didn't know that much about Dave. Sure, they had shared some moments but when it came down to it, he knew next to nothing about the boy— he hadn't even known that he had transferred until Finn had confirmed it when they were discussing the football team's prospects. He knew nothing about his family, what he liked to do in his spare time, his favorite colors... any of that.

And then, in that same moment, he realized that he wanted to. Because he was, not even necessarily deep down, bored. He saw the same faces with the same drama every day. How long had he been entrenched in Rachel and Finn's relationship? Two years? And Dave gave him a chance to not only relieve that boredom, but do it in a way that was actually meaningful. He wanted to learn about Dave's life; or at least whatever part of it Dave would let him see. So, he leaned back in his chair a bit and added, "I didn't know that, actually. I just assumed that you and Azimio spent all those years sitting around braiding each other's hair on weekends discussing all of the classic films and whether classic film noir is better or worse than any of the remakes that we have now."

Dave chuckled again, the sound bringing a smile to Kurt's lips. He liked making Dave laugh. It felt so much more important than when he made Blaine or really anybody else laugh because he felt like he'd earned it, rather than getting an automatic response. "Come on, now you're just trying to base my life around _your_autobiography."

Kurt laughed. "We never braided any hair, though. And it was never the classics. Rachel Berry has a different definition of what constitutes a classic film and it usually doesn't involve Casablanca."

"That's a shame. Casablanca is a cornerstone of the modern film canon."

This time, Kurt actually felt his jaw drop as he turned and surveyed Dave, whose face betrayed no hint of a smile or anything else to indicate that he was joking. Kurt shook his head, still gaping. "You've watched Casablanca?"

"More than once," Dave admitted, putting his feet up on the chair in front of him. "It ranks behind Citizen Kane and Gone With the Wind as my favorite pre-1960 movies."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, putting up a hand to silence Dave. "Are you trying to tell me that you've watched not only those films but enough from before 1960 to have that ranking actually mean something?"

"Well, yeah."

"You are a piece of work. I wouldn't ever have guessed. Why do you not tell anybody about this sort of thing?"

"Nobody's ever asked," Dave responded simply, folding his hands behind his head. That silenced Kurt for a moment as he considered what the other boy had said. He still couldn't believe what he'd said and part of him didn't believe it— after all, those movies were widely recognized as some of the most critically-acclaimed films of all time and could be found on any top movies list pulled off of Google. But that didn't mean that teenaged boys usually spent their time watching them. And yet, there was a simple honesty in Dave's voice and Kurt wanted to believe that he was telling the truth... no, not just wanted to believe it— did believe it. And the he noticed that Dave was wearing the same sad smile that he had worn the night before, when Kurt had been still reeling from his encounter with Blaine. It was a smile, but there was a sadness to it that Kurt didn't really see in anybody else. The last time he could actively remember seeing it was when Quinn had been pregnant and she, Mercedes and himself had been talking about her life.

That's when the other part of what Dave had said hit him. "Nobody's ever asked." How many people had Dave lied to before now, when asked about his favorite movie? How many people had simply assumed that he enjoyed action flicks or anything with Will Smith blowing people up? Kurt's own smile lessened in intensity as these thoughts came to him. He realized that it wasn't just him who didn't know Dave. There probably weren't a lot of people who did.

His mind firmly made up, Kurt stood up suddenly, offering his hand to Dave. "Let's go!"

"W-what?" Dave asked, looking perplexed by Kurt's sudden change in behavior and attitude.

"Let's go."

"Where?" Dave replied, still looking entirely confused. Kurt smiled.

"I don't know. How about Bruster's? We can grab some ice cream and you can tell me more about this secret film critic side to you."

Dave shook his head, the mystified look on his face becoming more firm. "Don't you have something else to do? Like, some after party or something? I know that whenever we win, there's always a party somewhere."

Kurt merely shrugged. "It's not like this is the first party that I'll be missing. And it's the same people that I spend time with every day. Let's go."

He extended his hand again, this time more firmly. Dave still eyed it warily.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"What?" Kurt asked, his wide smile slipping a little.

"I just... I feel like this could be a big mistake. You have people who are probably waiting for you and I don't want to... overstep." Dave spoke slowly, as though he were choosing every word very carefully. Kurt's hand dropped back down to his side as he thought about what he had said. On more than one front, he was absolutely correct. There was more than just one person whom he had promised that he would go to the after party. But it was his choice and right now, he chose to spend his time with somebody else. He crossed his hands over his chest resolutely.

"I think I'm perfectly qualified to make my own decisions. So unless you really have some other reason for backing out, let's go."

Dave sighed quietly, sitting in his chair and fidgeting for a couple long seconds. Finally he looked up, his eyes meeting Kurt's. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Kurt said emphatically. "I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't."

"Fine." Dave stood up, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'll drive."

"What? I can drive, I was the one who suggested—"

"I'll drive. I owe you some gas money anyways for driving me home yesterday."

"Oh, well..." Part of Kurt still wanted to argue with him and insist that he drive but it just felt stupid to argue over something this small. "Okay."

Dave led the way out of the auditorium and down the hall to the front doors of the school. The halls were resonantly empty. Kurt was surprised that nobody was around but wasn't going to argue; he could only imagine what some people would say if they saw him about to leave with Dave Karofsky. He had been judged enough in the past day by people close to him without having to deal with anybody else's questions.

The parking lot wasn't quite as empty as the school— there were still people hanging around, talking on the hoods of cars and a group of guys from the football team were tossing a ball around on the far end of the parking lot. Kurt noticed how Dave was looking ahead resolutely and wondered internally if he was purposely avoiding any interaction with them. It wasn't his place to say anything though, so he stayed quiet and instead looked at the car they were walking toward.

Before he could process what he was saying, a question slipped out, "Really?"

The car they were walking towards, the only one in its row, was not what Kurt had expected to see. Lima was like any other small town in suburban America and the choice drive of all jocks tended to be giant trucks. Hell, even Finn had a truck, though his was more of an issue of buying the first car he could afford rather than of choice. So he had fully expected Dave to follow that pattern— he may have been gay but he was still a big football-loving guy. Dave laughed.

"What?"

"I just... was expecting something slightly less... pedestrian?" Kurt responded, laughing a little bit. Dave shrugged his shoulders, a smile still on his lips.

"What can I say? I'm not a big fan of big cars and this thing gets a hell of a lot better gas mileage than them anyways." He unlocked the driver's door and proceeded to unlock the remaining doors as well. Kurt surveyed the car once more. However short it may have been, his time spent hanging around his father's garage wasn't for nothing and he thought that he recognized the symbol as designating a Honda. Sliding into the passenger's seat, he put his bag at his feet. Glancing around the interior of the car, he noted that it was very clean— another surprise. He also noted with surprised that it was a manual. His eyebrows raised, he turned to look at Dave and questioned,

"Manual? You are full of surprises today."

"Yeah, well... I feel like people think it's a lot harder than it actually is," Dave replied, sticking the keys into the ignition. He looked over at Kurt, a smile playing around the corner of his lips. "Was that why you were surprised? Didn't think somebody like me could figure out how to work one of these things?"

"Somebody like you?" Kurt asked, then cluing in to what Dave was hinting at. He shook his head, rolling his eyes slightly. "Please, I know you're not dumb. You whizzed through calculus last year and I'm just here struggling through it this year. The only time I ever really thought you were dumb was back when I was under the impression that your IQ was lower than Daisy Duke's and that you would rather bang her anyways."

Dave chuckled. Starting the car, he shifted into reverse and maneuvered out of the parking spot. Kurt watched him, slightly fascinated by the way he seemed so comfortable driving his car. He had never seen Dave as comfortable as he had been when he had seen him last night and today. Before, he had always seemed a bit out of his element. And, Kurt reflected, it was probably because he had been. Besides, he himself had never learned to drive a manual car and for some reason, watching Dave do it both impressed Kurt and made him reluctant to look away.

"You alright there?" Dave asked, glancing over as he pulled out of the parking lot. Realizing that he'd been caught staring, Kurt turned his head so quickly toward the window that he thought he might have cricked his neck.

"Yep, yep, I'm fine," he assured the other boy, feeling his face heat up as a blush spread up his neck. Curse the fact that he had always been so white that it became super apparent as soon as he started blushing. Dave seemed too focused on the road to notice, a fact for which Kurt was immensely grateful.

"Alright, if you say so." Dave shifted lanes smoothly as Kurt continued to stare resolutely out the front window as some new wave band played softly through the radio. "Bruster's, right?"

"Yes!" Kurt said, relieved that the topic had turned away from himself. It's right off—"

"I know where it is," Dave assured him firmly but not rudely. "I used to go there all the time with Az."

There was a hint of sadness in his latter statement that Kurt couldn't fail to notice. "Do you miss him?"

"What?" Dave asked, a slightly sharp note in his voice. Kurt hesitated before asking again.

"Do you miss him? I feel like you two were inseparable when you were at McKinley. I can't imagine having to transfer away from Mercedes or... or Rachel," Kurt continued, realizing that he would miss those two greatly. Or had, really, when he had spent those few months at Dalton.

"But you did and you survived," Dave replied, calling Kurt's bluff slightly. He shrugged heavily. "I mean, I still talk to him and hang out with him. In some ways, maybe… Maybe it's better that we don't spend as much time with each other as we used to."

Kurt didn't press Dave any further when he stopped there, though he desperately wanted to. He realized now how lucky he was to have friends who didn't judge him when he had come out. Sure, maybe in part that was because his coming out had been more of an inevitable acceptance moment than one as surprising as what Dave's would have been. But he had still been able to tell Mercedes… and even that had been the hardest thing he had ever done. He couldn't imagine how he would have told somebody who embodied every heterosexual stereotype in the books.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the car pulled to a stop in a spot in the crowded parking lot. At first, the number of people standing around, eating ice cream and joking around, surprised Kurt, but then he remembered that it was nine on a Friday night. Of course people were going to be here. He glanced over at Dave as the other boy turned off the ignition, wondering if he was going to be turned off by the number of people around them.

After all, if he had transferred to avoid any rumors, showing up with some random guy at an ice cream shop wasn't exactly doing him any favors.

But Dave pocketed his keys and started to get out of the car, looking over and Kurt and asking, "You coming?"

"What? Oh, yes!" Kurt scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt and clamber out of the vehicle. He shivered slightly in the cool autumn air, wondering why he had suggested ice cream of all things in this weather. Why hadn't he thought of coffee or hot chocolate or even something merely lukewarm? But he walked beside Dave as they walked up to the order window. Dave quickly scanned the list of flavors and looked at Kurt out of the corner of his eye.

"You realize that if you don't pick a good flavor, we're leaving and you're not allowed to get anything, right?"

Kurt laughed. "Oh, really? And what constitutes an acceptable flavor?"

"Anything that's not boring and not disgusting."

"You say boring, I hear classic. I thought you liked that," Kurt countered, running his eyes down the long list of available ice cream. He had to admit, just about everything looked good right now. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until that moment but he hadn't had a full dinner because of his pre-opening night nerves and he was starving. "And it's ice cream. Can you really argue can it be disgusting?"

"No, you hear boring," Dave corrected him as they moved forward in the line, smiling. He shrugged and nodded simultaneously at Kurt's question, consenting. "But fair enough. So, what's it going to be?"

"I think, just to defy you, I'm going to go with a tried-and-true favorite and get some strawberry."

Dave smirked a little bit. "Strawberry? Really? Well, I guess it's better than vanilla."

"What's wrong with vanilla?" Kurt asked with mock indignity.

"Nothing, if you like spending your Saturdays knitting and stroking your cats," Dave teased. Kurt turned away, smiling and pushing his hands into his jean pockets. It was nice, just talking with Dave. No adults watching to make sure they were getting along, no Blaine to keep an eye on, nobody worrying about whether one of them was liable to throw a punch… just a conversation between friends.

"Well, fine. If you're so judgmental over there, what's your flavor of the day?" Kurt prodded, looking back at Dave.

"I haven't decided."

"Yes, you have."

"Fine." The corners of Dave's mouth turned up slightly and then he turned to Kurt, giving him a crooked smile that made something somewhere in Kurt's chest beat a little faster. "Chocolate."

"W-what?" Kurt spluttered, looking at Dave as the other boy's grin grew wider. He shrugged unapologetically and Kurt shook his head in slight disbelief. "I don't know how to respond to that."

"By admitting defeat and ordering so I'm not standing here all night waiting," Dave replied. Kurt opened his mouth to make a retort but Dave stuck out a hand, nudging Kurt forward lightly, and he realized that he was actually at the front of the line. Grudgingly, he turned his back on Dave and gave the young-looking guy behind the register his order. After a few minutes, when he and Dave both had their dessert and were seated at a table a short distance from Dave's car, Kurt looked at him curiously. "So… I know that we're not really friends but—"

"We aren't?" Dave diverted his attention from a couple of younger high school students who had been attempting to turn a soda can into a miniature bomb to Kurt, looking him in the eyes. Kurt paused quietly, looking at his hands.

"Are we?" It was the only way he could know for sure how Dave saw them. He thought that they were on good terms and that they were friends—after all, Dave had been the one to approach him at the bar, not the other way around, when he could have just left him alone and he had come to the show tonight—but maybe Dave saw it differently. And Kurt realized that it made a huge difference to him how Dave saw them. Dave looked down at his ice cream, prodding it softly with his spoon. When he spoke, he had lost the casual confidence that he had held throughout their prior conversations of the evening, sounding incredibly uncertain of himself. He continued to stare at his ice cream, never once looking up at Kurt.

"I mean, I… I thought so. I thought that's why you invited me to your play tonight and to come here. I thought… I mean, only if you want to be." He turned his spoon over in his hand, studying it as though it was telling him what to say. "I just… I don't have a lot of friends at my new school yet and I thought that you wanted…"

He trailed off, a slight red color creeping up his neck. The blunt honesty of Dave's answer surprised Kurt once again and he quickly spoke, his voice rushed as he attempted to answer.

"Of course! That's exactly why I invited you, I just wasn't sure if you felt that way. Or, I mean," he cast about slightly for the right words. "I just didn't want to label us with anything that you were uncomfortable with."

Dave laughed but the sound had an edge to it that was darker than his tone before. When he spoke, his voice held a hint of bitterness. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing me any favors."

"Doing you—why do you think I invited you out tonight?" Kurt asked, staring at Dave.

"I don't know? Pity? Look at the poor guy, has to go to gay bars to find friends, maybe I should make him feel like he has some?" Dave took a bite of ice cream, still not making eye contact with Kurt. Kurt shook his head incredulously.

"Oh my god, no. Dave! I invited you because I wanted to spend time with you because, sure, you've got a bit of a prickly exterior, but I think you're a decent guy underneath that. And I want to get to know that side of you so that I can replace the other side that I used to see." Kurt watched Dave carefully as he spoke, unsure if he'd gone too far. But if he had, Dave hid it well.

"Okay. I just… I needed make sure." As he spoke, his voice cracked slightly and Kurt had to stifle his immediate urge to reach out and take his hand. Instead, he tried to smile. He knew that now was not the situation for a joke to try to play things off but oh, how he wished it was. Instead, after a silence, he said,

"Hey."

Dave finally looked up, his expression hard to read. Kurt smiled, pointing his spoon right at Dave's face. "Don't think you're getting out of the real reason for me suggesting we come here."

Dave looked confused. "What?"

"Let's go, Humphrey Bogart," he teased lightly, waving his spoon a little bit. "I need to know exactly which Marlon Brando films you've seen so that I can know which I need to force you to watch."

Dave chuckled a bit, the corners of his mouth tugging up. He looked up at Kurt, his eyes not quite caught up with his mouth in reflecting his emotion. But after a beat, he shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Hummel."

With that, the conversation shifted back to less heavy topics and stayed there until they left an hour later. As they pulled back into the parking lot of McKinley, where Kurt's car was the only one still remaining, Kurt turned to Dave and was about to speak when the other boy broke in.

"You know, this was fun. It was a lot more fun then I've had in a long time."

"Really?" Kurt asked, his hand pausing on the seatbelt latch. Dave nodded.

"Yeah. Keep in touch, Hummel."

Kurt smiled lightly. "I will. I'll see you soon, Dave."

Dave's face broke into a wide smile at Kurt's words. "See ya around, Hummel."

As Kurt wiggled his fingers of his left hand lightly in a goodbye wave as Dave drove off into the darkness, he pulled his phone out of the pocket and checked it for the first time since leaving the McKinley campus nearly an hour and a half earlier. He had at least ten messages waiting in his inbox, all from Glee club members asking where he was. Five were from Blaine. He ignored his instincts to respond and say that he was just running late but by this point that was obviously a blatant lie. So instead, he tucked his phone back into his pocket. He would call Blaine in the morning to explain. But the night had been perfect—all of it, West Side Story and Blaine and Dave—and he didn't want to ruin this moment.

Instead, he hopped into the front seat of his car and drove home, smiling the whole way as he thought of the events of the night, the radio softly playing the West Side Story soundtrack in the background.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author****'****s ****Note: **Now, I know that canon!Blaine is just a junior but that has never made sense to me so I've just gone ahead and made him a senior. We'll call it artistic liberty. Okay? Great.

This is a little quicker than a week between updates but I needed to get this out of my way before finals week. This will probably be the last update until midweek next week when my semester ends. Thanks for all the reads and reviews!

**Chapter Five**

A little over a week later, Kurt found himself staring at the blank document on his computer screen, fingers hovering motionless over the keys. Whoever had suggested that it was easier to apply to fine arts schools than a more traditional university had been out of their mind. At first, he had assumed that they just meant that there would be less in the way of essays because he had jumped to the conclusion that the bulk of the application would be checking of boxes on a standardized application and sending in CDs and videotapes. As was evidenced by the screen in front of him, however, that was not the case.

He had no idea where to start with the essay that was required for the NYADA application. Rachel had told him all about exactly how she had filled hers with descriptions of all of the qualities that made her exactly the kind of diva that the school was looking to pluck out of the desolate suburbs of Ohio. And knowing Rachel, it was chock full of gold star metaphors and overly-hyped examples of her sterling resume. But as distasteful as that was to Kurt, he couldn't think of how to write something better.

What was he supposed to say?

"Desperately Seeking Susan and There Are More Susan's in New York Than Ohio. An essay by Kurt Hummel." He rolled over onto his stomach, putting his computer on his pillow and looking at the boy sitting cross-legged on his floor, leaning up against his bed. "Think it has a ring to it?"

Blaine merely nodded his head vacantly as he continued to pound on his own keyboard. "Uh huh."

"Blaine." Blaine cocked his head so that one ear was directed at Kurt but otherwise failed to acknowledge Kurt. Kurt raised his voice and poked Blaine lightly in the back of the head. "Bla-a-a-ine."

The dark-haired boy sighed and finally stopped typing. He rolled his head back and looked up at Kurt, who had positioned to head over Blaine's. "What?"

"I don't know what to write for my personal statement," Kurt complained. He glanced enviously at the multiple lines of text on Blaine's screen, jealously comparing it to his own blank document. "Help me."

"What do you want me to do?" Blaine asked, looking back down at his screen. "I can't write it for you."

"I know that," Kurt rebutted, rolling his eyes and trying to keep Blaine's attention. "I just need you to tell me all about how fabulous I am so I know what to write down."

Blaine laughed softly, looking up and pecking Kurt lightly on the underside of his chin. "You're wonderful. But I have applications due in a few weeks, too, you know."

"I know," Kurt scowled, whining slightly to try to get Blaine's help. He craned his neck to try to read the words on the other's screen. "But you said you were done with most of yours. What are you working on?"

Blaine paused, biting his lip. Then he muttered, "My NYADA application."

The smile that had been creeping onto Kurt's face evaporated instantly. He pushed himself up onto his forearms and stared down at Blaine. "I'm sorry. I think I misheard you. What?"

"Look," Blaine replied, sighing. He picked up his laptop and placed in on the floor next to him. He turned to face Kurt and Kurt could tell that he was trying to read his body language. "Kurt, I know that I said that I wouldn't apply to NYADA but—" Kurt scoffed loudly but Blaine largely ignored him and continued to talk. "But Ms. Pillsbury was talking to me about my options when I went in to ask for a letter of recommendation and from what she said it seems like it could be a really good fit for me."

"Yeah, I'm sure a competitive school like that would be a great fit for somebody who's willing to stab his boyfriend in the back for it!" Kurt retorted angrily. Blaine shook his head.

"I didn't get upset when you said you were planning on applying to the Tisch School," he replied. His voice fluctuated as he spoke, as though he were struggling to keep an even tone and volume. But Kurt shook his head sharply, feeling his face begin to heat up.

"That's because it's never been your dream to go to Tisch! You've always wanted to go to Berklee and that's part of why I'm not applying there! I wouldn't want to mess with your chances."

"Oh please," Blaine responded, shaking his own head. "NYADA wasn't your dream school. You just latched on when Ms. Pillsbury shattered your dream of going to Julliard."

Kurt reacted as though he'd been slapped. He could feel his face flushing and seethed between clenched teeth, "Really? Tell me how you really feel about it. And! And what were you going to do when you got into NYADA and I didn't? Lie to my face until the very last minute while you watched me settle for somewhere else?"

"No, of course not," Blaine replied, but Kurt could tell that he wasn't being completely honest and wasn't having any of it. He shook his head and pushing himself into a full sitting position on the bed, further away from Blaine.

"I can't believe you were just going to lie to me and apply without telling me."

"Look, you can apply to Berklee if it makes you feel better," Blaine said consolingly. Kurt snorted derisively.

"Why would I apply to a school that I've never had any desire to go to? Besides, I've always wanted to be in New York, not just somewhere other than Ohio."

"And you still can be," Blaine said. "There's more than one performing arts school in New York and it's not like it's impossible for both of us to get into the same school."

"You're right," Kurt replied. "It wouldn't be impossible. But they're not going to admit three kids from the same tiny own in nowhere, Ohio and Rachel is basically guaranteed a spot since Shelby is writing one of her recommendations and she has a million extracurricular activities and really, what's the likelihood of just one more of us getting in? It's incredibly unlikely. And if the situation was reversed, I wouldn't risk your chances of getting in just for myself."

"Yes, you would," Blaine accused. Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm sorry? No, I wouldn't! I'm not."

"Yes, you would. Come on, Kurt, I've known you for a while now. If you had the chance to shine, you wouldn't let anybody get in the way, not even me."

Kurt couldn't hold back the shocked and indignant sound that escaped his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall at the head of his bed. When he spoke, his voice had a slightly shrill edge to it. "You have got to be kidding me! What happened to auditioning for Tony? I'm best friends with Rachel Berry. You don't think that if that was true, I would have figured out some way of ensuring that I got that role? You have no idea how badly I wanted that role, Blaine!"

Kurt could hear his voice escalating in volume as he spoke, slowly rising to a shout. Blaine looked like he wanted to interject, but Kurt kept talking, steamrolling forward as all of his pent-up frustration from the past few months came out in a flood of words. "And has it ever occurred to you that there are some others of us out there who might enjoy having a solo every now and then? From day one that you got to McKinley, everybody's loved your voice and you and it's just like Dalton all over again and you get all sorts of leads and solos and I stand in the back and singing single-note lines repeatedly. Just like I have for two straight years!"

"I'm sorry that I got casted for the lead in the school musical. I'm sorry that I volunteered to sing a couple extra times. I thought you would want me to be happy here."

"I want you to be happy but I don't want you to do it at my expense! You could have invited me to volunteer to duet with you or something. Instead, you've just become yet another person who'll get picked ahead of me to sing in competitions— which means you're more likely to get into the college that _I_ wanted to get into!"

By the end of his speech, he was shouting, breathing heavily, face flushed and hands balled. Blaine's eye's flashed darkly.

"I'm sorry," he said nastily. "I didn't realize that you were so jealous of me."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond angrily, though he really just wanted to slap Blaine to see if that had any impact on reducing the other boy's pigheadedness. Before he could get any words out, however, there was a loud knock on the bedroom door. Kurt was about to rudely dismiss whoever was standing outside but they opened the door before he had the opportunity to and within a second, his father had stuck his head in.

"Hey, you guys, it's 4:30 so you should probably get going to your evening Glee rehearsal. Finn wanted to head out but he was afraid to come down here because it sounds like World War III." Kurt huffed frustratedly at his father's impeccable timing. When he looked up, his father was surveying him knowingly and he quickly tried to collect himself, slamming his computer shut.

"Okay. We'll be right there." He bounced off of his bed and grabbed his backpack, which was still sitting on the chair where he had dropped it upon getting back from school that afternoon. Usually, he loved their Wednesday evening practices because they usually involved opportunities to discuss which musical numbers would be best suited to each member's voice with Rachel and to eat greasy pizza while barely feeling guilty about it. But the last thing that he wanted to do right now was go anywhere or do anything with Blaine. He stomped over to the foot of the stairs and started to ascend them.

When he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw that Blaine was still sitting on the floor of his room. Snappishly, he asked, "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Blaine grabbed his computer, shoving it in his backpack. "I don't really have a choice, do I? My car's still at school."

"You could walk," Kurt retorted, starting to walk angrily up the stairs. "You seem to like that."

With that insult hurled, he didn't wait for Blaine to catch up. He stormed out the front door, grabbing his keys off the small table sitting next to the exit. Finn was already sitting in the backseat of his car, having taken his customary spot for the ride over—Kurt drove to school every Wednesday when Blaine came over after school in exchange for rides from Finn every other school day. Tossing his backpack viciously into the trunk, narrowly avoiding nailing Finn in the head, Kurt threw himself into the driver's seat.

He was tempted to drive off without Blaine but refrained—that would only mean that he would have to deal with the boy when he got home later. So instead he waited for him to clamber into the passenger side seat before starting the trip back to school.

The first five minutes of the drive were possibly the most tense minutes of Kurt's life up to that point. Nobody spoke and when Blaine tried to turn on the radio, he had jabbed the power button to turn it off just as quickly. After they got stuck at what seemed like the millionth red light of the trip, Finn poked his head into the front seat between the two.

"Look, I know you guys are, uh, fighting or whatever but do you think we could play some music or something? Everybody likes singing, right?"

Kurt was struck by the simultaneous urges to laugh and cry. Finn could always be relied on to make an awkward moment even more awkward. But he permitted him to put in the CD of songs they were planning on performing at sectionals and at least the rest of the ride wasn't silent—instead, it was full of the noises of Finn attempting to sing along to a song that he still only knew half of the lyrics to.

All things said, Kurt had never been happier to get to McKinley. Walking to Glee though, he found something that could distract him from his preoccupation with he and Blaine's fight. As the trio passed the gym on the way to the choir room, the all-too-familiar sound of Coach Sylvester's voice yelling at undoubtedly tearful girls blared out. Suddenly, a thought struck Kurt and he pulled up short.

Finn turned and looked at him curiously but Kurt just shook his head, waving him forward with his hands. "Go ahead. Tell Mr. Schue that I'm going to be a couple minutes late."

"Okay," Finn said uncertainly, before proceeding, dragging Blaine with him down the hallway. Kurt turned on his heel and marched into the gym, head held high. He knew that there was a script that he was going to have to follow with some degree of accuracy if he actually wanted this to work. Ignoring the Cheerios, who were now cooling down as Santana barked at them to do a better job, he strutted over to where Sue was standing and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Coach Sylvester?"

The intimidating woman turned around at him, cut off in her barks by his interrupting. "Porcelain, I am always fantastically surprised to see you come visit me voluntarily. What's the occasion today? Decided to stop dancing around with those wanna-be's and rejoin the real champions again?"

Kurt shook his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed. When he spoke, he made sure to keep a steady, slightly authoritative tone. "Those people are my friends. And no. But I… I have a favor to ask."

"A favor to ask? Why would I give a favor to my political opponent's son?" Sue's focus was on him but she glanced periodically out of the corner of her eye at the uniformed girls.

"Because it has nothing to do with that."

Sue raised an eyebrow, surveying Kurt harshly. "You have my attention."

"I need you to write a college recommendation letter for me."

"I'm sorry, I don't usually ask questions like this because my hearing is, like the rest of me, perfectly designed. But I must have heard you incorrectly."

"No, you didn't," Kurt replied. "I need you to write a recommendation for me."

"And why me?"

"Because," Kurt began, trying to formulate his thoughts quickly and without messing up. "I realized that you know me better than anybody else at this school and unlike anybody else, you've actually been willing to help me when I needed it. Well, I need it again. I need a better letter than somebody like Mr. Schue can write, because he just sees me as a good kid with some potential. You know better than that."

"Well, Porcelain, I have to admit that this was not something that I expected when you first walked in here. But I may be able to help you out."

"Really?"

"While this may come as a shock to you, not very many people ask me to write them letters of recommendation. And even fewer of them actually get them." Sue finally lowered her megaphone, looking at Kurt closely. "Because I would hate for a kid like you to be stuck somewhere like this because you couldn't get a good letter of recommendation. I would know."

Kurt looked up into the woman's face, realizing what she was saying. He felt his face relax into an almost-smile. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Sue nodded. "You be sure to leave a list of the schools you're applying to by tomorrow afternoon at three sharp though or the deal's off."

Kurt nodded quickly. "Of course."

There was a pause and then Sue lifted her chin toward the doors of the gym. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Oh, yes!" Kurt scrambled off the bleachers they were standing on and hustled toward the door. As he exited, feeling accomplished, he heard Sue barking through her megaphone at the Cheerios again, a reminder that despite what her reaction may have seemed to make it, this was actually real life.

Glee rehearsal flew by that evening as the group worked on choreographing their first number for the sectionals warm-up meet that they had planned between them, the Troubletones and the Jane Addams Academy girls. Most of the evening involved watching Mike attempting to work out steps with Tina, who was their best female dancer since Brittany had left and trying to copy his steps.

For Kurt, that meant spending a couple minutes practicing each new move and then watching Rachel attempt to pry something other than awkward jumping out of Finn. It made for an entertaining hour and he was in a somewhat better mood by the end of it. As everybody was cleaning up when they were done, picking up paper plates and pizza boxes, Blaine approached him. Kurt stiffened slightly, freezing as he reached down to pick up a napkin from where it had fallen on the floor.

"Hey," Blaine said, keeping his voice quiet enough to be heard only by Kurt through the noises of chairs scraping against the floor as they were pushed back into place. Kurt acknowledged him by raising an eyebrow judgmentally. Blaine took it as a sign to continue so without waiting for a verbal response, he continued. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier that I was planning on applying to NYADA. I was just worried that you might overreact and well, I was kind of right, wasn't it?"

This time, both of Kurt's eyebrows shot up as he stood up to face Blaine incredulously. He opened his mouth to protest but Blaine raised a hand to stop him.

"I know that's not what you want to hear right now, but as I said—I'm sorry. If you had told me that you were applying to Berklee, I probably would have had the same reaction." Kurt pursed his lips but said nothing, allowing the boy to continue to speak now that he was making semi-valid points. "And so I can understand that you're angry. But please realize that I'm only doing what I think is right in the long run and I wouldn't be doing it if I honestly thought that I was standing in your way."

Kurt sighed but he could already feel his softer side tugging his heart towards forgiving Blaine, at least for now. He hated fighting. But still, a simple sorry wasn't going to fix this and his rational side was winning that argument. "I'm not sure that you would."

"Kurt," Blaine said, in that voice that usually made Kurt's heart melt. The room was beginning to empty but Rachel was still talking to Mr. Schue at the piano so they weren't in danger of being interrupted to be kicked out of the room yet. "I know you're mad. But come on. This isn't just an audition for a play that we're talking about."

"Exactly!" Kurt began to interject, but Blaine continued, talking over him in a slightly louder voice.

"I can't risk my future just to make sure that you don't spend the next six months fretting about whether I'm taking your spot. I was being honest when I said that I don't think I'm hurting your chances of getting in." He reached out and took Kurt's hand, holding it lightly as he spoke. "I'm sorry. But I think you'll come to see my side of things soon enough."

Kurt couldn't help but smile softly. Yes, he was angry, but Blaine did sound sincere. And it was just hard to stay mad at him when he looked like a giant puppy dog. "Fine. I don't completely hate you. But you're not off the hook yet."

Blaine grinned. "I know. Let me take you to the movies on Friday to make up for it, okay?"

Kurt sighed, pursing his lips slightly and frowning for a minute before finally responding with a terse, "Okay."

But as they walked out of the choir room, Blaine tugging him along with their interlaced hands, Kurt somehow felt that that wasn't a fair trade at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Tomorrow?" Kurt asked, his heart sinking and the smile fading off of his face.

"Yeah," Dave's voice said, coming out of the speaker of Kurt's phone with an optimism that even the spotty signal couldn't douse. Kurt felt his mood continuing to slip as Dave continued. "I just thought… I dunno. It's our last game of the season and I know that you're not completely averse to football because you were our kicker for a game or two sophomore year and… Yeah."

Kurt sighed, trying to mute the sound as much as possible. Part of him—and a large part at that—desperately wanted to say that, yes! Yes, he would be there! He'd only seen Dave once since they had gone to get ice cream after the opening night and that was a covert Sonic run during which he had learned that Dave and he shared a passion for onion rings, the only fried food that Kurt would willingly eat. And he wanted to see him again.

Besides, Dave had come to the opening of West Wide Story without any real incentive so it was ultimately only fair that Kurt go watch his game. But…

He had his date with Blaine the next night and they were already on rocky ground, without adding another wrench to the proceedings. Kurt sat in silence, perched on the edge of his bed, biting his lip. After a moment passed, Dave spoke again.

"Kurt? Are you there?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry… I, uh," Kurt cast about for something to say to stall, hoping that he could figure out an answer before Dave asked again. "What time is the game?"

"Seven," Dave replied. Kurt groaned inwardly as he flopped back into his bedding. When he didn't respond, the other boy added, "I understand if you can't come. It's not particularly convenient and I know that you probably have other things to do with your Friday night. I just hoped—"

That did the trick. Before he could really process what he was saying, Kurt interrupted, saying, "I'll be there?"

There was a pause and then Dave replied, "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun."

Dave's response was so cheerful that Kurt could almost feel the boy's grin radiating through the phone line. "Awesome! Do you need directions or anything? I can—"

"I'm sure that it won't be that hard to find," Kurt replied, smiling to himself. "There's only one other high school within a twenty mile radius of this town so it should be easy, right?"

Dave chuckled and the sound made Kurt smile. "I guess so."

There was a pause as Kurt sat lost in thought, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that was assuring him that this was definitely a very big mistake. He buried his face in his pillow, as he started to try to convince himself that maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he was making it out to be. After all, Blaine loved football. It had always driven Kurt nuts in the past. And the McKinley team was away this weekend. So maybe he would want to go. After all, he had dragged Kurt to more of the McKinley games this season than he wanted to count.

"Anyways," Dave said, breaking the silence after a minute had passed. "I should probably go. I have some math homework to do and while you're a lot more fun to talk to, it gets lonely when I leave it for too long."

Kurt laughed, rolling over to face the ceiling so that he wasn't talking into his pillow. "Math? I thought that you would have run out of math classes to take in high school by now. What are you in, Algebra 10?"

It was Dave's turn to laugh, his laugh several octaves lower than Kurt's but just as light. "Only Calculus II, idiot."

"Whoa, harsh words, Neanderthal."

"Don't push me, Hummel." Those words, which had terrified Kurt a mere year before now were delivered in such a different context that he barely noticed. If Dave had noticed, he didn't mention it. "But really, I need to go or my mother is going to lock me in my room until I finish all of my work."

"Well, I would hate for that to happen. Good luck!"

"Yeah, me too. And you, with your application essay."

"Thanks." Kurt smiled, pleased that Dave had remembered him mentioning the fact that he still had only one paragraph finished for his NYADA application. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you."

The line at the other end went dead. Kurt hung up his own phone, smiling despite the realization that he had probably just thrown himself into a giant mess. Rolling back over, he pulled his laptop out from underneath his pillow and opened it, finally realizing what to write for the first of his two personal statements for the application.

Opening a new document, he quickly started to type, not caring that Finn had informed him that dinner was ready at least twice now. College was more important than food, even Carole's lasagna and now that he had an idea, he couldn't afford to lose the inspiration of the moment—it was just like any other artistic pursuit. They'd understand.

_It's hard to explain how somebody you barely considered a friend could be the most influential person in your life. But sometimes you have to, because nothing else could honestly answer this question…_

The next day after the final bell, Kurt flounced up to Blaine's locker, trying to maintain the most casual attitude possible. He leaned against the cool metal next to his boyfriend. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I just need to make sure I don't forget my math book. If Mrs. Eisley thinks that I skipped doing my homework again, I'm ninety percent sure that I'll fail her class."

Kurt waited patiently for Blaine to finish collecting his books and linked arms with him as soon as they began walking down the crowded hallway to the parking lot outside. Glancing at Blaine, trying to read his current mood, Kurt probed, "So, you know how we have our date tonight?"

"Like I could forget," Blaine responded, grinning at Kurt. Kurt pushed aside the slight superficiality of Blaine's smile and took a deep breath before plunging forward with what he had to say.

"Well, I know that we had planned to go to get dinner at five and then see the movie at seven but what if we shook things up a little bit? I mean, we just did the dinner-and-a-movie thing two weeks ago—last weekend, if you count when I came over to watch Moulin Rouge—and as much as I love a classic date, I think it could be fun to shake things up a bit."

"Shake things up how?" Blaine asked suspiciously, drawing out the question as though he were still thinking about it as he spoke. Kurt bit his lip but then decided to forge ahead. After all, honesty had been the best policy in their relationship eighty percent of the time.

"Well, how about a football game?"

Blaine looked at him, curious. "You want to go to a football game? But we're away this weekend. Unless this is just some scheme Rachel roped you into to try to get a ride to see Finn play. I told her that—"

"No, no," Kurt interjected, really caring less what Blaine had promised Rachel. While he was glad that his boyfriend and best friend got along, he still hadn't forgotten what had happened between the pair of them the spring before. "I was thinking something else…"

"Like what?" Blaine asked. "NFL teams play on Sunday and I didn't think OSU had a Friday game this week."

Shaking his head, Kurt completely threw caution to the wind and said, "Let's go to the Burnsville game."

"The Burnsville—what? Kurt, what are you talking about?"

"I just thought it would be something different. And you like football so instead of dragging you to another romcom, because I know how much you secretly hate Jennifer Aniston in anything but Friends, I thought we could do that instead." Kurt bit the corner of his lip as he waited for Blaine's response as they drew even with the boy's car. Blaine shook his head slowly.

"I don't know, Kurt. I just don't get why you would want to go randomly watch some other high school team's game in late fall instead of going to the movies in a nice warm theater." Blaine unlocked his car and put his backpack on the back seat, turning to face Kurt.

"We could still go to the movies. Just maybe a later showing."

"But why do you even want to go watch them play? I know we've been trying to share more with each other lately but I don't get this."

Kurt sighed. He paused, staring at the cracked asphalt of the parking lot momentarily before looking up at Blaine. Deciding that at this point, honesty couldn't hurt, he met the other boy's eyes and confessed, rushing slightly, "I have a friend playing and it's his last game and I promised I would go."

"What friend?" Blaine asked, the suspicion returned to his voice.

"Um…" Kurt hesitated a minute. He hadn't really thought this part of the conversation through, though he should have known that it was going to come up eventually. And he really didn't want to give Blaine the honest answer. But there was no other answer to give, so he tried to force a smile and said softly, "Dave?"

It took Blaine a moment to register what he had said, but it was obvious when he did because the shaky smile that he had been wearing left his face entirely. "Dave Karofsky?"

"Yes?" Kurt replied tentatively, carefully watching Blaine's features. He had been expecting a poor reaction but maybe not the exact words that came next.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Kurt started, looking at Blaine. "What?"

"Come on, Kurt. Really? Am I supposed to be thrilled by this?"

"Well, no, I didn't expect you to be thrilled but I didn't expect you to verbally berate me for it!"

"I'm not…" Blaine sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a remarkable feat given his maintained obsession with his bottle of hair gel. "Look, Kurt, I love you but lately I feel like you've been ignoring the us in favor of you. You do what you want without bothering to ask me first. What if I just said no, I don't want to come?"

"Blaine! Look, all I want is to try to share your interests. I thought you'd be happy."

"My interests don't include Dave Karofsky but apparently yours do."

Kurt wanted to bang his head against Blaine's car. Or just bang Blaine's head instead. This was going to get nowhere. No matter what he answered, there was going to be something wrong with it. So, he just reached out and touched Blaine lightly on the shoulder, trying to ignore the tension that he felt.

"If that were true, I wouldn't have invited you. I want _my__boyfriend_ to come with me to watch _a__friend_ play in the last football game of his high school career. That's it. Okay?"

"Fine," Blaine said, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "We can go, at least for a half, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"You're the best boyfriend ever," Kurt gushed, clapping his hands excitedly. "Thank you! I promise to let you pick the movie afterward."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine muttered, opening the driver's door.

"Pick me up at five?" Kurt asked, still grinning widely despite Blaine's reluctance to agree.

"As usual," Blaine consented.

"Thanks," Kurt smiled. Blaine merely nodded. When Kurt leaned in to give him a goodbye kiss, confident that everybody was too busy going about their end-of-the-week celebration to notice them, Blaine pulled back a bit, causing Kurt to miss his mouth and hit his cheek instead.

"I'll see you then." As soon as Kurt had pulled back enough, Blaine closed the car door with a snap and backed out of the parking spot, leaving Kurt standing with a puzzled expression on his face.

The two hours between the end of school and the time Blaine was supposed to pick him up flew by in a rush of getting home, trying make plans to meet Mercedes at the mall the next day and reminding Finn not to forget his jersey (again) when he left for his game. Kurt sat on his bed at quarter til five, trying to decide what constituted an appropriate outfit for the night. Whenever they went to one of Finn's games, he usually added something red to his usual attire. He had no idea what the Burnsville colors were so he eventually settled on something that was as neutral as possible—his skinny navy jeans, matched with a bright blue shirt, hidden under his favorite black pea coat.

When he heard the front doorbell ring, he leapt up the stairs of his basement bedroom two a time, wrenching open the door at the top. As he rounded the corner into the entrance hall, he saw that his father had beat him to the door and was chatting casually to Blaine, who looked as ridiculously adorable as ever in a big black sweater, khaki pants and black boat shoes.

"…parents are going out of town next week to visit my uncle in Indiana but I would rather stay here for the holidays," Blaine was telling Burt as Kurt came up beside the pair of them.

"Well, you know you're always welcome here, kid. Just say the word and I'm sure Carole would be happy to whip up an extra serving of everything on Thanksgiving for you," Burt replied, placing a firm hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We'd be happy to have you."

"Thanks, Mr. Hummel. That would be wonderful," Blaine said, his most parent-pleasing smile plastered on his face. "I appreciate it."

"Of course. And you'd have a place to stay?"

"Sure," Blaine responded. "I've got a couple friends from Dalton who live closer to my house who've already volunteered to lend me a spare bed. But thank you."

"Alright," Burt said. Clapping each of them on the shoulder, he smiled. "Well, don't let me hold you two up any longer. Kurt, home by midnight, alright?"

"Got it, Dad," Kurt said, grabbing his favorite scarf from where it was hanging by the door and pushing Blaine out in front of him. "See you later!"

"Bye, Mr. Hummel!" Blaine's car was parked on the street in front of the Hummel-Hudson house. As Kurt hopped into the passenger seat, he noticed a couple pieces of paper sitting on the dashboard in front of him.

"What are these?"

"Maps," Blaine replied, climbing into the driver's seat and sticking his keys in the ignition.

"You printed out maps?"

"Just because I don't want to go doesn't mean that I would purposely get lost on the way there to avoid it. You'd be even more annoying then."

"Well, thank you," Kurt said slightly snidely despite his sincerity, realizing that Blaine had meant it as an insult. Buckling in, he picked up one of the pieces of paper and glanced over it. Commenting slightly off-handedly, he noted, "It's not too bad a drive."

"Well, it's just long enough that it'll be a bit of a hurry to get back for the ten o'clock showing at the theater by Breadstix."

"We can leave early," Kurt noted. "I never said that we had to stay for the whole thing."

"Yeah, well…" Blaine trailed off, driving past rows of houses and making the occasional turn.

"So..." Kurt said, casting about to try to fill the awkward silence that had descended between them. "Where are we headed for dinner?"

"There's that new Italian place out on the west side of town. It's sort of on the way, so I figured we could check it out," Blaine replied.

"Great," Kurt answered, fiddling with one of the buttons on the top of his coat.

The following two hours were possibly the two most awkward of their relationship, including the time that Kurt had known Blaine before they started dating—which was saying a lot. He was trying really hard to start up a conversation that lasted more than three minute but all through dinner Blaine moodily picked at the bread and then appeared too busy eating to actually engage with him. On the drive out to Dave's school, their exchanges were limited to Kurt trying to pry any sort of response out of him. He even resorted to turning on the radio to a horrible country station, hoping that Blaine would comment on the atrocities that were most country singers' voices.

When they finally arrived at the school, Kurt waited patiently for Blaine to pull his coat and gloves on, trying not to rush the other boy. As they waited in line to buy the tickets, Kurt finally breached the silence.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets to try to protect from the cold since Blaine had rejected his attempts to hold his hand.

"Yeah, maybe it was," Blaine said. "But we're here, so there's no point in turning back now."

"Blaine…" Kurt sighed. "Look, this is no different than you inviting the Warblers to come to West Side Story, okay? So just… Just cheer up. The team they're playing is the defending state champion so it should be a good game."

"Let's just get through this," Blaine replied, stepping up to the lady who was sitting behind the ticket table. "Two please."

Handing Kurt his ticket, Blaine led him through the gate in the wire fence. Winding their way through people wearing lots of blue and yellow, they found a couple of seats next to each other about halfway up the bleachers. They had barely been there for two minutes before a familiar face popped up in the crowd. Kurt buried his hands in his heads, groaning.

"Sebastian?" Blaine asked, sounding even more surprised than Kurt to see the other boy standing in front of them.

"Blaine!" the boy replied, a surprised but excited tone to his voice. There was a pause and then, "And…Kurt."

Kurt looked up, wrinkling his nose in acknowledgement. He pursed his lips as Sebastian sat down on the other side of Blaine, squeezing in next to somebody's mother. Blaine looked at him, still looking shocked to see the other boy.

"What—What are you doing here?" Blaine asked.

"Well, my cousin plays for the team and since I've never seen him play, I thought I would come down. What are you doing here?"

"Kurt has a friend who plays here. Wow, I haven't seen you since Scandals!"

"Huh, funny that." Kurt narrowed his eyes as Sebastian sent him an appraising look. Blaine didn't seem to notice the exchange.

"Well, you should sit with us!" Blaine said enthusiastically. Kurt twisted his head around staring at his boyfriend in shock. He was still staring at him incredulously, trying to come up something that was only mostly rude to say, but before he could, Sebastian grinned.

"I would love to."

"I'm sure you would," Kurt muttered under his breath, but it was drowned out by people clapping as the starters for the game were announced and the crowd began to cheer. He shifted his focus from the two boys who were now chatting animatedly next to him to the field. When Dave was introduced, he clapped his hands loudly, cheering obnoxiously to the displeasure of the other two.

But his plan worked. He made himself stand out enough that Dave looked in his direction. When he saw Kurt, a huge grin crossed his face, causing Kurt to grin in return. He had to admit, while he had always found the McKinley bright red to be a good shade for Dave, he looked good in the navy blue of his new school. When they announced Dave's position, it meant very little to Kurt— that was why he took Blaine to the games. But he still cheered with the rest of the crowd when they stated it.

It was a good thing that he had learned at least something about football between being Finn's brother and Blaine's boyfriend though because he spent the majority of the game listening to Blaine talk to Sebastian. Sure, his boyfriend kept attempting to draw him into conversation but Kurt could hardly get two words in before Sebastian interrupted so he simply stopped trying after the first couple times. Instead, he idly watched the game, cheering at the proper moments and booing when the people around him did.

He didn't know much about football but he did know enough to recognize that while he may not have been a superstar, Dave was good. He always seemed to be right in the middle of the action and he was a nightmare to try to tackle. Watching him play made up for the cold and having to listen to Sebastian endlessly chatter—did the boy _ever_ shut up? It also helped that his team managed to squeak out a win, which was, from what Kurt could tell, a pretty big deal.

At the end of the game, a bunch of the players came over to the fence near the stands, greeting their friends and thanking their moms for watching them. Excusing himself from the pair of boys next to him, Kurt maneuvered through the crowd toward where he could see Dave chatting with a couple of his friends at the fence.

Coming up beside the group just as the pair of people Dave was talking to departed, Kurt smiled. "Hi. Good game."

Dave turned to face him, a grin on his face. "Thanks. Glad you could make it."

The bigger boy was covered in sweat from the game but for once, Kurt was not even slightly repulsed by that fact. Or maybe it was just Finn's and Puckerman's sweat and the fact that the latter had always made a game of seeing just how much of it he could get on Kurt that had always bothered him as much as it had. Whatever it was, he had no problem standing close to Dave, talking just loudly enough to be heard over the din of the crowd.

"Of course! I really wouldn't have missed it. Congratulations on finishing your season with a win."

"Yeah. Do you know how the McKinley boys did tonight?" Dave asked curiously. Kurt shook his head.

"No, Rachel hasn't texted me yet. So maybe they're still playing?"

"Yeah. I'm sure Z will text me to let me know. I hope they won," Dave added, too quickly for it to have been an afterthought. Kurt looked at him curiously, trying to read the cloud that had passed over his face momentarily.

"You miss it, don't you?"

"What?" asked Dave, snapping his attention back to Kurt.

"You miss playing with the McKinley team." This time he didn't ask it as a question because he realized it was true. Dave understood that he'd come to that conclusion and didn't respond. He just gave a slight nod and then shrugged.

"I mean, these guys are all great but when you've played with the same guys for three years, it's just not the same."

Kurt nodded, knowing what he meant. He'd felt the same way when he'd transferred to Dalton—even though he loved the Warblers, it just hadn't been the same as performing with New Directions. Taking one hand out of his warm pocket, he touched him lightly on the arm. "Well, you're always welcome to come back and visit."

"Yeah," Dave said. Then after a pause, he added, "I was actually thinking about coming down this week before Thanksgiving to kick around with some of my boys. And to give Coach Slyvester back her blender that I stole last year."

He chuckled a bit at Kurt's incredulous expression. Kurt just shook his head in slight shock. "I can't believe you had the guts to steal from Coach Sylvester."

"Ah, well… She likes me. Or has, ever since the whole Bullywhips thing last year. And she doesn't know it was me so… It should be fun to give it back." He gave Kurt a lopsided grin that Kurt couldn't help but mimic, trying to ignore how his heart gave a little jump at the smile. Dave cocked his head a bit and asked, "So, uh do you want to hang out while I'm in the McKinley vicinity anyways?"

"Y—" Kurt hesitated. It would be pushing his luck a little to avoid another fight with Blaine if he saw Dave in an instance when Blaine knew that was the reason Kurt was busy. But then again, after Thanksgiving, his Glee schedule was going to pick up as they got ready for sectionals and he wouldn't have much time to see Dave. So, he nodded and said firmly, "Yes. That would be great."

"Awesome," replied Dave, looking relieved. He glanced over his shoulder. "Well, I've gotta go do some post-game wrap-up stuff but I'll see you on Tuesday?"

"Definitely."

"Great." With a last smile, Dave turned and caught up with some of his teammates who were disappearing across the field. Kurt turned and watched Blaine descend out of the stands while Sebastian (finally) headed off in a different direction. Kurt smiled as Blaine came up, glad that he finally seemed to have a genuine smile on his face—even if Sebastian had been the one to put it there.

"Come on, I'm freezing. Let's go watch Jennifer Aniston snag the man of her dreams."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Kurt had been surprised when Blaine didn't get in touch with him all weekend. Sure, he knew that he was spending some time in Westerville with his friends from Dalton but he hadn't called, texted, instant messaged… anything, since the end of their date on Friday night. And that was very weird for Blaine.

What was even weirder was that he had given no indication as to why. Yes, the beginning of their date had been a little rocky but after the game, Blaine had seemed to be in a considerably better mood. He had laughed through the horribly cliché chick flick with Kurt, teased him for wanting to make sure that he didn't miss his curfew by even a minute and had even been relaxed enough to engage in a minor bit of physical affection with Kurt—at least until it became a major case of PDA when Finn returned back from his date with Rachel and parked his truck literally right next to Blaine's.

Kurt had even texted him multiple times. The first time had just been a joke about the movie they'd seen but when he hadn't gotten any response, they had slowly escalated into check-ins to try to ascertain that Blaine hadn't actually died over the weekend.

So Kurt felt fully justified in being clingy and wandering the school Monday morning, searching for his boyfriend before class started. When he found him chatting casually with Mercedes near his locker, he strutted over, coming up behind Blaine and linking arms with him.

"Hello-o, you two," Kurt chirped, a slightly uncharacteristically sunny smile on his face. Then, pointedly, he added, "Have a good weekend?"

"You would know, you were there for half of mine!" Mercedes responded, giving Kurt a cheerful hug. "Though boy, you missed a great movie marathon last night."

"Sorry, I was a little busy trying to catch up on my homework," Kurt apologized, though part of him was glad that he hadn't been there to suffer through five hours of Brittany commenting on Sex in the City reruns. Turning to face Blaine directly, he prodded, "And you?"

"It was fine," Blaine responded, pulling a couple of his books out of his locker. He shrugged. "I had some good jam sessions with the Warblers and it was nice catching up to them. How was your weekend?"

"It was fine," Kurt said concisely, desperately wanting to add, "Not that you would know." But he kept it to himself and continued to discuss the light-hearted details of the weekend with the other two. He didn't want to bring up any of he and Blaine's problems in front of Mercedes—he hated the high profile drama that came with a lot of the Glee club couples and he refused to join their ranks.

Instead, he waited for the first time that he caught Blaine alone to bring it up—which wasn't actually until the following day at lunch. Blaine had seen him for about thirty seconds after school on Monday but had just given him a quick kiss before having to rush off for an internship interview. Kurt finally caught up to him on Tuesday as he was just about to enter the cafeteria. Kurt pulled him aside, apologizing to Rachel for interrupting her conversation but reassuring her that it was for an important reason.

Blaine looked slightly miffed at Kurt's interruption as he dragged him into an empty classroom—Kurt knew for a fact that the calculus teacher used every single moment of her lunch break to consume as many cigarettes as humanly possible outside so it was guaranteed to be empty for the entire lunch period.

"What's up, Kurt?" he asked, sounding slightly tired and a little off-put. Kurt sat on the top of the desk nearest the door, arms slightly crossed.

"We need to talk, okay? I feel like you've been avoiding me ever since Friday. You've been ignoring my texts, you won't be alone with me anywhere… I just don't get it."

"I'm sorry. I've been having a rough couple of days. I've just been trying to sort some stuff out," Blaine replied, shrugging lightly.

"Sort stuff out? What _stuff_? Blaine, you've never kept stuff from me before."

"Just… stuff, okay? I've been under a lot of pressure from my parents to get a job to put on my resume and they think I'm spending a lot of extra time with you instead of focusing on my priorities."

"Your… your priorities?" Kurt asked, slightly confused. Then, in a slightly firmer voice, "What exactly _are_your priorities, Blaine?"

"Kurt, it's not like that," Blaine imploringly, shaking his head. "Look, just… hear me out, will you? My dad, he's not like your dad. You're dad's going to be happy as long as you're doing whatever you want to do—and that's great. But my dad isn't like that. He's not content to have me just go to a performing arts school and be done with it. He wants me to focus on getting business experience because that's where he thinks I'm going to wind up. And you are one of my top priorities—no, my top priority… but when you pull stunts like last Friday, it can be very hard to stand up for you against him."

Kurt sat silent for a moment, processing what Blaine had said. Most of it, he understood. He had met Blaine's father and while the man was as genial as his son, he had a much more intimidating streak to him than Blaine ever could dream of having. However, there was a point or two that Kurt wished to take umbrage at. "I'm sorry. Exactly what stunt are you referring to?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward toward Blaine on his desk. "No, Blaine. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Kurt, why do you do this? You always do this. You know what I'm talking about." Blaine leaned his back against the door, rubbing his temples.

"_Tell__me_, Blaine."

"The whole "let's go off and go watch a pointless football game so that I can see somebody that I don't even like play football" stunt," Blaine said. Now he too crossed his arms, assuming a defiant position that was clearly challenging Kurt to come up with a defiant response.

At first, all Kurt could muster was a weak, "I like Dave."

But then, as he spent another minute watching Blaine, he just wanted to wipe that cocky smirk that was starting to form off his face. Why did he have to win every single argument that they had? Why did he always have to put Kurt down, make him question his own motives? Kurt just wanted to win for once.

"Besides," he snapped, jumping off the desk and starting to pace in front of it. "You didn't seem to be having such a bad time talking to Sebastian for an entire two hours, anyways."

"Because he's my friend?" Blaine retorted slightly derisively.

"Just like Dave is mine!" Kurt said angrily, raising his voice as he gestured with his hands, the dramatic side in him coming out. "I don't see why you have such a problem with that!"

Blaine sighed deeply. "Look, lunch is going to be over soon. Can we just talk about this after class since you seem to want to talk about it so badly?"

"I—" It was Tuesday. Dave was visiting McKinley that afternoon. And Kurt had promised to hang up with him. Well, fuck. Kurt knew that choosing Dave in the middle of a fight with his boyfriend would be insane. But he also knew, just as strongly, that Kurt Hummel kept his promises. And this was just another example of one that he intended to keep. "I can't."

"Why not?" Blaine asked suspiciously.

"Because, I already have an appointment with somebody."

"Well, that's just great. Let me guess," Blaine said, sarcastically pretending to think. "It's not me, I know it's not Finn… I just don't know who else it could be."

"Stop, Blaine," Kurt requested. He had known that Blaine wouldn't be happy but he really didn't think that immaturity was the right way to go about it.

"You know," said Blaine, suddenly serious. He pushed away from the door, standing up and walking toward Kurt. Kurt stopped his own pacing and stood in front of his desk, bracing himself for whatever was coming next. "For somebody who cares a lot about how high he is on my list of priorities, you don't exactly seem to care where I am on yours."

"That's not fair," Kurt protested. He hesitated. He didn't want to divulge too much to Blaine because each of the last two times that he had, he and Dave had almost wound up in a fist fight. But how else could he get Blaine to understand that Dave had changed and, as far as Kurt could tell, really just needed a friend? "Blaine, look Dave—"

"Dave what, Kurt? Dave needs you? Are you kidding me? Because from what I've seen, Dave doesn't care about you except for as far as it can get him un-expelled!"

"That's ridiculous!" Kurt cried. "Blaine, you don't know _anything_."

"What don't I know, Kurt? What don't I know that makes it so important for you to be Dave's best friend all of sudden?"

"He's changed! He went through a really rough spot and he's doing better but he still needs somebody. And I…I'm the only one who knows enough to help him." It was the first time that Kurt had acknowledged that fact and even though the realization came in the middle of an argument with Blaine, it struck a blow heavy enough to make him stop talking momentarily, trying to wrap his head around it. Blaine too, was silent, though Kurt didn't know why. When the other boy spoke again, his voice was low, much quieter than before.

"Well, it sounds like you don't need me for that."

"W—What?"

"Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that I'm more important than Dave?"

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed. When he actually went to look Blaine in the eye though, he found that he couldn't quite meet his face. He was scared of what he was going to see. He hadn't meant to make Blaine this angry. He had just wanted to try to make him understand. He had been trying to share this part of his life with Blaine. That's all that he had wanted. Why couldn't Blaine see that. "Blaine. I… I want to be with you."

"Well, I'm not sure if I want to be with you." Blaine's voice was so quiet that Kurt could barely hear it, even though they were barely a foot apart, red-faced and staring at each other. But when it hit him, his eyes widened and when he tried to speak, he couldn't find his voice. Blaine surveyed him shortly and then turned, stalking toward the door. His hand was on the door handle before Kurt could find the power to speak again, desperately trying to come up with anything that would make Blaine stay.

"Blaine, wait!" he managed weakly. Blaine turned, looking over his shoulder. He shook his head.

"No, Kurt. I'm done waiting for you to realize that Dave is some friendship phase that you're going to look back at and shake your head. I'm not going to wait for you to figure that out. When you're ready to tell me that you've eliminated his influence from your life, I'll be there. But until then, I can't handle what he does to you. Until then, don't call me."

"Blaine!" Kurt tried to stop him but before he had taken two strides toward the door, Blaine had yanked it open, marched through and slammed it shut behind him, leaving Kurt alone. Kurt hurried to cross the space to the door, wrenching it open. He looked both directions in the hallway but he didn't see Blaine anywhere. He felt his heart sinking and suddenly felt sick. Slinging his messenger bag over one shoulder, he half-ran down the hallway to the nearest bathroom. Not caring that it was the girls' room—that joke had gotten old a long time ago, even to his most persistent hecklers—he ran inside, locking himself in a stall.

Turning, he leaned his back against the stall door, leaning his head back against the cool metal. Closing his eyes, he attempted to calm his breathing and his heart rate, the latter of which he was pretty sure was close to the equivalent of cardiac arrest. He bit his lip, attempting to stifle the slight tremble that was preceding the tears that he did not want to come.

How could he have been so _stupid_? It was like no matter what he did, he was always stepping on Blaine's toes in some way but he didn't want to. He just wanted to rewind to last spring, before he had come back to McKinley, when things between them had just been easy. Back then, even the loss at regionals hadn't phased him because he had been with Blaine and they had just worked. And then he came back…

And he had started to interact with Dave. Of course, he would never regret the things that had happened since his return but why did thy have to mess everything up? He just wanted to be happy—why couldn't he have his boyfriend and his friends? He shouldn't have to choose.

Kurt felt his initial sadness turning into anger and clenched his fist. No, this wasn't his fault. This was Blaine's. Blaine was always the one with a problem. Kurt had watched him bounce from serenading the Gap guy who looked homeless to lusting after the young history teacher at Dalton to sucking on Rachel Berry's face to obliviously flirting with Sebastian…and yet he had a problem with Kurt talking to one friend? If he was going to be like that, Kurt didn't care what the fuck he did as long as it was nowhere near him.

A few minutes later, having gained the confidence that he was not about to break down crying in the middle of his next class, Kurt emerged from the bathroom with this angry attitude at the front of his mind.

It lasted all of two seconds when he entered the choir room for the afterschool Glee rehearsal and saw Blaine sitting there talking to Finn, looking completely unaffected. Just the fact that he was smiling was enough to make Kurt want to run over and ask for forgiveness and for Blaine to take him back—he had such a pretty smile. His more rational side denied these impulses but didn't give him any plan of action to replace this initial one. Kurt was frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to do when his phone rang loudly in his pocket. Trying to ignore the way that everybody in the room's eyes snapped to him as he fumbled around to answer, Kurt pressed the answer button and held the phone up to his ear, trying to maintain a steady voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey!"

"Oh," Kurt said, lowering his voice as he recognized the voice on the other end. Of course. Dave had always had a fantastic sense of timing. "Dave, hi."

"Well, I know that I'm not your best friend or anything but I'm not gonna lie, I expected a slightly more energetic response," Dave said lightly, a warmth in his voice that Kurt relished. Kurt stepped outside the choir room, ignoring Blaine's heavily suspicious looks and the equally confused looks that Rachel was sending him. Shutting the door lightly behind him, Kurt raised his voice back to a normal volume, replying,

"Sorry. I was—well, it's not important. What's up?"

"Well, I was just wondering when you got done with choir or tap dance or whatever it is that you do after school on Tuesdays so that I knew when you were going to be free." When Kurt didn't respond, he added, "Because, you know, we talked about—"

"I know, sorry!" Kurt interjected, interrupting him. He bit his lower lip, trying to figure out what to say. As much as it was really nice that Dave wanted to see him after hanging out with his football buddies, he didn't know if he could handle it after the day he'd had. He just didn't know how to say that—and after the day's events, he was incredibly wary of saying the wrong thing. But he had to say something. "Dave, I'm really sorry. I don't think I'm going to be able to do anything today."

"Oh." Kurt tried to ignore the sinking feeling that he got when he heard the disappointment in Dave's voice. "Well, that's okay, I understand if you're busy or—"

"I'm sorry. I've just had a really tough day and I think I'm just going to go home right after Glee."

"Oh. Are you okay?" There was real concern in Dave's voice and Kurt was so grateful to hear it that he had a hard time maintaining a steady voice when he responded. It was just nice to know that somebody out there still cared about his feelings.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. I just need some sleep." Kurt paused. "But can I make it up to you?"

"Uh, sure." A pause followed, as Dave apparently waited for Kurt to elaborate and Kurt tried to figure out how exactly to do that. Then, "So, thanks for the offer but how exactly—?"

When Dave said "thanks," Kurt hit upon a solution. Without really thinking, he asked, "Do you want to come over on Thanksgiving for some dessert?"

"What?"

"Do you want to come over for dessert on Thursday? We're going to have some extra food anyways…"

"And you don't think that your boyfriend is going to mind?"

"He's not going to be there," Kurt said shortly.

"Oh." There was a long, indecipherable pause.

"Dave? Are you still there?"

"What? Yeah, sorry. Uh, sure, I'll be there. What time?"

"We usually eat the actual dinner around four or five so I guess around seven?"

"Okay. I can do that."

"Awesome," Kurt gushed, a smile returned to his face for the first time in hours. "Well, I'll see you then?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect." Kurt heard piano keys being struck in the choir room and Rachel's voice rising above everybody else's as the group started their warm-ups. "I have to go but, uh, see you Thursday?"

"You got it, Fancy."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'll see you, Thursday," Dave said hurriedly, hanging up before Kurt had a chance to respond.

Stowing his phone back in his pocket, Kurt entered the choir room. The entire group was gathered around the piano in the center of the room, vocalizing with Rachel conducting them, Mr. Schue notably late to the proceedings. Carefully, Kurt squeezed between Tina and Mike to where Rachel was standing. As she wrapped up the warm-ups and directed everybody to continue getting warm, Kurt leaned against the piano in front of him, crossing his arms and resting them on the wooden surface.

"Where have you been?" Rachel demanded, cocking head and sticking her hands on her hips. "You missed warm-ups for the second time in four weeks!"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's what you're worried about?"

"Do you have an excuse?"

"Rachel, don't I always? I need to talk to you about some stuff."

"Kurt, we are about to practice our most important song for sectionals and you think I have time to talk about things?"

"Obviously I didn't mean now! Look, I just have to uh," Kurt glanced at Blaine. "I need to catch you up on some stuff."

"Well, I suppose we can catch up on Thursday."

"What?" Kurt stood up straight, looking at her in surprise.

"Oh, well, since you invited Blaine, Finn thought it would be fun to invite me as well!"

Kurt groaned. "Oh, god, I'm not going to have to eat tofurkey, am I? Because if so, you're uninvited."

"No, you're not, grumpy pants."

"Well, in that case, I guess I can handle your presence."

"Oh, thank you." Rachel shuffled the sheet music in her hand, straightening it on the edge of the piano. "I guess I can handle any guest of yours then, as well."

Kurt sincerely hoped that she was being honest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I'd like to apologize to all of my consistent readers about the delay in posting. The holidays have been a very busy time for me and my last-check beta, so it's taken a bit longer than expected to get this next chapter posting-ready. This chapter is also a bit longer than usual but I couldn't think of a good place to break it. Hopefully with school starting again and life resuming as normal, I'll have a return to a regular posting schedule. Enjoy and thanks for sticking around so far!

**Chapter Eight**

"No."

"Dad…"

"Kurt, I said no."

"Come on, if it were any of my other friends, you wouldn't have a problem with it and you were planning on having Blaine here anyways so now that it's not happening, why can't I just invite somebody else so that I don't have to sit through the Rachel Berry show on my own on Thursday?"

"Hey!" Finn chimed in, looking up from his meatloaf for the first time since the conversation had begun. "Rachel's not that bad."

"She's not that bad about sixty percent of the time and I doubt she'll make it through the entire day without some of that other forty percent coming out," Kurt retorted, stabbing his own meatloaf moodily with his fork. Finn seemed like he wanted to reply but his mouth was brimming with food and he couldn't actually get any words out. By now Kurt was used to this sight so he was only mildly disgusted as he turned back to face his father across the table. "Please, Dad."

Burt shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kurt. But I know what that kid did to you last fall and I don't care if he's acting like he's changed, I don't trust him. I know you want to have a friend here for Thanksgiving now that Blaine—" He changed his words slightly as he caught the expression on Kurt's face, pouring himself some more water from the pitcher in the middle of the table. "I know you want a friend here and I know you want to help him but you still believe that people can change fundamentally. I'm not sure if I do."

"You'll never get the chance to test that theory if you don't give Dave a chance," Kurt argued, frowning. He tried to catch Carole's eye hoping that maybe she would take his side in this one, or at least not shut him down completely, but she was listening to Finn talk about his project he had to do over the weekend, having given up on their argument.

"Maybe not," Burt agreed, nodding his head. "But I'll be happy knowing that there's no funny business going on that I could have stopped."

"Dad, please!" Kurt huffed in frustration. Arguing with his father was never fun but it was particularly miserable when Burt was winning. "Dave hasn't bullied me since I left for Dalton last year—in fact, he stopped people from bullying me when I got back to McKinley!"

"I know," Burt said, nodding his head infuriatingly. "But he was also trying to get back into school after getting expelled for his actions in the first place. I doubt that he would try to get away with anything when he knew that he was under close scrutiny."

"Or maybe he's actually been trying to do the right thing!"

Burt sighed, running a hand over his head. He surveyed Kurt closely, looking him directly in the eyes. Kurt met his gaze, despite his initial inclination to look away. He felt like his dad was reading him incredibly easily and it made him uncomfortable but he still couldn't break the gaze first. Finally, Burt spoke again, more softly. "Do you know something I don't know, kid?"

"About what?" Kurt asked unevenly. The honest answer was 'yes' but he knew that this was not the time or the place, nor was it his job to tell anybody even if it was. Outing Dave to his dad would do nothing, no matter how understanding Burt could be. Kurt finally broke eye contact, glancing down at his hands instead, trying to keep his facial expressions as neutral as possible.

"About this Karofsky kid. Because the Kurt I know, good-hearted as he is, probably wouldn't be arguing to let his former bully spend part of a family holiday here just because he wanted to show that he was reforming.

Kurt sighed, shifting uneasily in his chair. "No, Dad. I just think this could be a chance for him to show you that he really has changed and that his heart is in the right place. Besides, he's my friend and I do want him here. Please, Dad."

Burt continued to look at Kurt closely for another dozen seconds before glancing down at his food. Picking up his fork, he shook his head. "I never could say no to you, you know that? If it means that much to you for the kid to come for an hour or two, then I guess I'll let him. But this doesn't mean I'm happy about it, okay?"

Kurt grinned. "Thank you, Dad!"

"Yeah, well, don't thank me yet," Burt grumbled. Turning to Finn, who had just reached down to pick up a piece of silverware off the floor, he ended the conversation with Kurt, asking, "So, Finn, how many times are you going to drop that knife before I have to glue it to your hand?"

Kurt joined in with the rest of the family dinner, in higher spirits than he had been all day. The good mood even lasted through the next day at school—he was able to avoid Blaine for the most part and the knowledge that his father was willing to give Dave a chance to prove that he was actually a decent person buoyed his mood through the couple awkward encounters that he did have.

When he woke up on Thanksgiving morning, there was already the smell of food wafting down the stairs into his basement bedroom. He got dressed while inhaling a strong cinnamon smell and went through his morning grooming ritual being tempted by the smell of cranberries and raspberries. When he finally emerged into the kitchen, Carole was bustling around from counter to counter, wiping her hands on her apron as she went.

"Ah, there's my helper! I was wondering when you were going to show up. All those two are good for is keeping me updated on the score," she commented cheerfully, pointing over her shoulder toward the living room, where Finn and Burt were indeed already watching the early holiday game.

"Well, then, I guess I'm your man. I've had enough football for a while." Kurt grabbed a blueberry bagel from a bag on the counter. Slicing it and putting it in the toaster, he pulled a spare apron on over his jeans. "What can I do to help?"

While baking was his absolute favorite activity in the kitchen, Kurt did enjoy all types of cooking. Thanksgiving was a great holiday; it gave him the chance to spend all day in the kitchen. And he enjoyed cooking with Carole. She was just fun to be around and Kurt realized how much he'd missed having somebody to cook with—and his dad didn't count, since he had to spend hours trying to drag him into the kitchen before he could ever do it with him.

The time flew by and before Kurt knew it, it was four and Rachel was at the door, surprisingly dressed in an outfit that Kurt wholeheartedly approved of. After Finn had greeted her with a hug and she had shown a half-hearted interest in the game that was playing, she flounced into the kitchen and engulfed each of them in a hug.

"Thank you so much for the invitation, Mrs. Hummel-Hudson!" Rachel refused to call Carole by her first name, no matter how many times the older woman mentioned it; she had stopped trying after month two. "And thank you, Kurt, for cooking. It all smells delicious."

Kurt smiled, returning the hug briefly before shaking off her arms and rushing to save his special stuffing from burning in the oven. Carole laughed.

"He's been like this all day—'I can't spare a single minute or nothing will get done,' and the like. But why don't you relieve him on potato mashing duty so he can go get changed for dinner?" Carole handed Rachel a large spoon and caught Kurt's eye meaningfully. He rolled his eyes lightly but took off the apron and headed down to his room to change into a meal-appropriate outfit. While Thanksgiving was not the classiest of holidays, he still preferred everybody to be nicely dressed.

When he emerged from his room, the majority of the food was already on the table and Finn and Rachel had taken their seats. Being careful not to get any traces of food on his nice pair of slacks, Kurt helped to carry the final bowls of food out to the table before slipping into the chair across the table from Rachel.

The main meal passed incredibly pleasantly. One thing that Kurt did enjoy about Rachel was that there was never a lull in conversation when she was around. Even Finn, who ate at least half of the food being consumed, was participating in the laughing and joking and for the first time since before he and Blaine had started fighting a couple weeks ago, Kurt felt genuinely happy. He didn't even get affronted when Finn asked if he was sure that he hadn't overcooked the green beans.

After they had finished eating, Finn and Burt cleared the table while Rachel and Kurt put away the leftovers, filling every nook available in the refrigerator. He would probably be eating turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches for weeks but it was well worth the price to have the privilege eating them fresh once. Shoving one final piece of Tupperware filled to the brim with mashed potatoes between a tub of stuffing and the pies still waiting to be brought out, Kurt raised a fist in triumph. Flopping into a chair in the living room next to Rachel, he said, "I never want to see a piece of food ever again."

Rachel faked a groan in agreement, patting her stomach appreciatively and stifling a giggle. "Does that mean I can eat all of your dessert and not feel sorry for you?"

"Absolutely not," Kurt replied, laughing. He leaned back into the soft cushion of the couch, watching Finn flip through channels on the TV, trying to find whatever football game was on next.

"Ugh," Finn complained, slipping onto the couch next to Rachel and draping an arm over her shoulder. "There's nothing but Black Friday ads on. Are you sure I can't bust out the video games yet?"

"No!" Rachel protested, laughing. "No video games until after eight."

"That's like," Finn glanced at the clock on his cell phone and leaned his head back, groaning. "That's like, three more hours."

"Well, that's when the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special will be over and if you make me miss that for the first time since I was three, I…" Rachel paused, seemingly trying to cast about for a suitable threat. Finally, she settled on, "I will be unspeakably angry."

Kurt snorted. "Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

Rachel pouted, playfully swatting at him over the arm of the couch. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Since when?"

"Since… You are." Rachel smiled, resting her head on Finn's shoulder. Kurt tried to ignore their couple-y actions, even though he had to grudgingly admit that they looked cute as they snuggled together watching some talking heads on ESPN wish everybody a happy holiday. Instead, he turned to picking at a small hole in the fabric of the chair cushion, pretending to be interested in what was being said.

Without really realizing it, Kurt fell into a light sleep, his head dropping onto his chin as the tryptophan from the turkey took its toll. He was jolted out of his nap when the doorbell rang.

"I've got it," Burt said, rising out of his seat and starting off toward the door. At first, Kurt was slightly confused, disoriented a little by not recognizing what program was on TV. But then the sound registered and he practically jumped out of his chair, trying to chase down his dad.

It was a futile attempt. Burt had opened the door before Kurt even made it around the corner. He slowed his pace as he stepped into the entrance hall, trying to see around the door as his father pulled it open. He felt his eyebrows arch slightly as Dave came into view. He looked… quite presentable. Which was a surprise, considering how he usually didn't really bother to clean up.

"Good evening, Mr. Hummel. Happy Thanksgiving," Dave greeted, offering his hand with a nervous smile on his face. Kurt observed quietly, waiting for the best moment to jump in and break off what was bound to be an awkward conversation. Burt extended his own hand and gave a concise, firm shake.

"Good evening, David. Come on in. We're just about to cut up the pie so feel free to join people in the living room."

"Thank you," Dave replied. Shrugging off his jacket, Kurt realized that he had swapped his usual polo for a button-down shirt. It was a nice change. Wanting to decrease the strained tension that was still present in the room despite the warm greetings that had been exchanged, Kurt slipped between the two larger men, grabbing Dave's jacket.

"Hi, Dave!" he greeted, perhaps too cheerfully. Deftly removing the garment from Dave's grasp, Kurt draped it on a hook of the coat stand by the door. "Here, let me hang this up for you. Come in, come in!"

His manner may have been overly exuberant but he beckoned with his hands, guiding Dave into the living room where Finn and Rachel still sat cuddling on the couch and Carole was reading a book in her favorite chair. Kurt could feel his father's eyes watching them as they disappeared through the doorframe, sensed the light scowl still on his face and tried to act as naturally as possible, while praying that everybody would just act normally.

As they emerged in the living room, Finn looked up, eyes widening. Kurt could tell without him having to say anything that he hadn't actually been expecting Dave to show up and was not prepared for this moment. He just stared at Dave stupidly. Rachel's eyebrows had shot up upon seeing Dave—clearly, Finn had not done what Kurt had requested and she was also not anticipating this moment. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she seemed to struggle to find words.

Carole had looked up as they entered, making brief eye contact with Kurt. Just as quickly though, her gaze had shifted to Dave and a smile crossed her face. Interrupting the awkward silence that had descended, she stood up and crossed the room. "Hello, David. It's nice to see you again. Having a good Thanksgiving?"

Kurt thanked heavens that at least she could be a genial human being. She shook Dave's hand warmly, offering a warm smile. Dave returned it unsteadily, his smile genuine but nervous.

"Hi. It's been pretty good. Thank you for having me."

"Of course! We're always happy to have another friendly face around. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks," Dave replied gratefully, visibly relaxing as Carole made the effort to help him do so. Finn seemed to finally have recovered from his initial shock because he stuck out the hand that wasn't still wrapped around Rachel's shoulder, a smile starting to form on his face.

"Hey, man. Happy Thanksgiving! Did you see the game earlier?"

Kurt watched in slight wonderment as Dave grinned and slapped Finn's hand genially, never missing a beat. He was suddenly incredibly grateful that Finn was here because he and Dave may have shared a sexual orientation and love of old movies but Finn actually had a lot more in common with him.

"You too, dude. And of course—I watched the Detroit game under free will but my brother made me watch the other."

"Well, yeah. Detroit's still the biggest turkey of all."

"It's a painful topic. My family is all Detroit fans so it's a Thanksgiving tradition to give thanks that at least this year, we didn't lose by fifty points."

"Bummer." Finn nodded at the empty space on the couch next to him. "Grab a seat. Dessert's pretty laidback here so no need to worry about where you sit."

"Thanks, man." Dave started to lower himself onto the couch cushions, shooting Kurt an indecipherable look. Kurt realized that he was still lingering in the doorway of the living room and made his way back to the chair on the other side of the couch arm from Dave, trying to resume a semblance of normalcy. As Dave settled in, he surprised Kurt again by leaning forward to look around Finn and saying, with a slight nod of his head, "Hey, Berry."

"Oh," Rachel squeaked, caught off-guard by his direct address. She blushed a furious red before looking toward him. "Hi."

"Good Thanksgiving?"

"It's been pleasant." Rachel hesitated slightly before adding politely, "Yours?"

Dave shrugged. "No complaints here."

"Well… that's good." Rachel turned her focus back to the TV, where the opening notes of A Charlie Brown Christmas were beginning to play. Kurt glanced only briefly toward the screen—he had seen this holiday special so many times that he could practically recite it. Instead, he was watching Dave. It took a moment to realize that he was being watched in return; he jumped when Dave made eye contact, fiddling a bit with the hole in his chair again. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by his dad.

"Alright, time for dessert! What do people want? We've got pumpkin, pecan and cherry."

Kurt felt an unpleasant lurch in his stomach at the mention of the cherry pie. It had been made because it was Blaine's favorite and he had requested it the week before—by the time she had received news of their break-up, Carole had already prepared the filling and Kurt hadn't wanted her to waste anything. Still, he now turned his nose up at what was undoubtedly a delicious pie and replied,

"Pumpkin, please."

Finn raised his hand goofily, adding, "I'll have one of each."

Before Kurt could express his mild incredulity at this request, Rachel had piped up from her spot, requesting some pecan pie. Carole asked for a piece of cherry and then Dave finally added, "Pumpkin, please."

Burt glanced at where the boy was sitting on the couch, finally looking reassured that nobody was going to start attacking him without warning and nodded at everybody's requests. Then he nodded his head towards the kitchen and said, his tone perfectly even, "David, do you want to help me bring out the pie?"

Kurt immediately sensed trouble and sat up in his chair. "I can do it."

"No, you've already done enough to help today." His father's tone was the same as it had been but Kurt could immediately tell that that was his way of rejecting his offer and saying that he should stay firmly planted in his chair. He hesitated as Dave looked conflicted for about a moment and bit his lip as the other boy stood up.

"Yeah, I'd be happy to lend a hand."

They were gone for too long. Kurt sent nervous glances toward the doorway to the kitchen about every thirty seconds and he was about to have a nervous breakdown by the time the first commercial break rolled around. He had visions of his dad lecturing Dave or reprimanding him for some imaginary offense or scaring him away or… something terrible. All he knew was that it did not take this long for two people to cut five pieces of pie—or even eight, if you counted Finn's request. He was just about to bust into the kitchen when the pair reemerged, faces unreadable.

Dave handed a piece of pie to Carole and then handed Kurt a plate with a piece of pie on it. Kurt ignored the dollop of whipped cream on top that was far too large for one serving size and instead tried to critically evaluate Dave's features. He raised an eyebrow when Dave met his eye, attempting to silently communicate with him. Dave just gave a slight smile, the corners of his lips tugging up and shook his head.

Returning to his seat on the couch, Dave was quiet while the rest chatted as they consumed dessert. By the time the credits were rolling on Charlie Brown though, whatever had been preoccupying him had passed and he had joined in the conversation. A genuine smile came to his face though, when Burt pulled out the Scrabble board.

Kurt was surprised by this reaction, as his initial inclination had been to roll his eyes. Burt Hummel was never a big one for games but they had played Scrabble for every Thanksgiving as long as Kurt could remember. He watched curiously though as Dave's eyes lit up as Burt began to arrange the board and flip all of the tiles. Kurt did a mental headcount though and pointed out,

"Dad, you can only play Scrabble with four people."

"I know," Burt responded, pulling his chair closer to the table. "Carole's already admitted defeat and Finn wanted to team up with Rachel. So, we've got four teams."

"Oh." Kurt bit his lip. He had never been that good at Scrabble. He could write and spell but he couldn't make words magically appear out of seven tiles. He had never beaten his dad—in fact, the only person he could ever beat consistently was Finn. And now he had Rachel.

His first hand was no different. Surely, there were any number of words that could be made by arranging his tiles but the only one he could see was "lit." Or "til," if he flipped it the other way. So instead of actually attempting to come up with anything better, he quickly scanned the competition. Rachel was pointing at tiles from her perch on the couch, while Finn rearranged tiles with a puzzled expression on his face. His dad was as collected as ever, seeming to be at least mildly satisfied with his hand. And Dave was pushing things around on his rack, not seeming to be happy with what he had been given. At least, that's what Kurt thought—until he played the word "mingle" using the L that he himself had just played.

Kurt looked up from his rack, where he had been focusing lightly, an incredulous expression reaching his face. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Dave asked, not betraying any emotion on his face. "It was just lucky."

Kurt shook his head, observing the board in front of them again. "That's lucky? I'd hate to see what happens when you get a little luck."

As he found out over the next half-hour, a lot could happen when Dave got a little luck in his favor. Kurt managed to at least stay close in the scoring for the first couple rounds but he and the tandem on the couch slowly slipped behind in points until he believed that it would honestly be considered a miracle if he managed to finish within fifty points of either his dad or Dave. And when Dave played "xenith" on a triple word score, Kurt threw his hands up in the air.

"If I had known that I was sitting across the aisle from a wordsmith freshman year instead of somebody I thought could barely spell three-letter words, maybe I wouldn't have laughed when somebody suggested cheating!"

Dave chuckled, a warm smile gracing his lips. "I'm just practiced."

"I've been playing this game since I was five and I still can't beat you," Kurt responded.

Finn looked up from the handheld gaming device that he was playing with contentedly, Rachel having long ago essentially taken over for both of them. "Dude, I just thought you were a math whiz."

Dave laughed, saying emphatically, "I'm not. I just… I'm good with patterns. Patterns of numbers, patterns in formulas, patterns with letters. That's all. Ask me to write an essay and I'll fail."

"That's a pretty remarkable eye you've got there," Burt said, adding a few tiles to the board and writing down a number on the score sheet. "You've certainly played better than either of these two ever had." He gestured towards Kurt and Finn. Kurt scowled lightly.

"Maybe we could win if we played in French."

"You would," Dave agreed. "All I would be able to spell would be _oui _and _merci_."

"Your accent is terrible," Kurt noted.

"Your score is terrible," Dave shot back, tone light. Kurt smiled.

"Are you sure you're not reading a dictionary under the table, Hamhock?"

"Just because you misplaced yours and can't win without it…" Dave retorted, moving some tiles around.

"Wait, Kurt, you cheated?"

"No, Finn!"

"Finn, you can't spell that!" Rachel slapped his hand away from their shared rack, keeping the tiles in place.

"It's because Finn can't spell at all!" Kurt added, cackling slightly.

"Yes, I can."

"Yeah, you can spell whatever you learned in Rocks for Jocks."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Dave!"

"I can still kick your butt in video games."

"Finn, that's because that's all you ever do."

"Really?"

"Yeah, man. You should come play sometime."

"Yeah, maybe I will."

"Kurt, is it acceptable to use acronyms?"

"No, Rachel."

"Shoot."

Finally, a brief silence fell, though it was the first of the evening that Kurt didn't feel the need to attempt to fill just for the sake of filling it. It wasn't awkward. It was nice.

In the end, Dave narrowly beat Burt, edging the victory by five points. Burt congratulated him before turning on the TV to a recap of the day's sports. Rachel pouted about her loss but didn't seem too upset, as Finn snuggled her into his body, lightly kissing the top of her head.

Kurt collected the dirty dessert dishes still lying around the room and went to the kitchen to wash them. Dave followed him, hands in the pockets of his slacks. As Kurt placed the dishes on the counter, he turned to survey the boy standing across from him. The mild awkwardness that he seemed to have when they were alone seemed to have returned in full force, as Dave was glancing around the kitchen but not speaking.

"That was pretty impressive. I've never seen anybody beat my dad like that."

Dave just shrugged. "As much as you seem to want to believe that it is, it's not all skill."

Kurt turned on the faucet, running warm water over each dish in turn before slipping it into the overcrowded dishwasher. "But you've still done better than just about anybody else."

Dave smiled. "Well, thanks, I guess. But really, it was nothing. It was fun."

"Yeah…" Kurt wiped his hands dry on a dishtowel sitting next to the sink. He turned to Dave, looking him in the eye. "Thanks for coming. It…" He cast about for the right words, finally coming to, "It honestly made my day."

"Oh." Dave averted his eyes, a light blush rising up in his cheeks as he fiddled with the knobs on the stove. "It was nothing. It was a little chaotic in my house with my family in town so this was a nice escape."

"An escape?"

Dave shook his head. "I love my family but this gave me a chance to avoid my grandmother telling me how much I've grown and… asking about whether I have a girlfriend or not."

"…Oh." Kurt leaned against the counter, attempting to be cautious not to say the wrong thing. "I'm—"

Dave cut him off. "Don't bother. I'm used to it. She's just… a pretty traditional person. I think her weak heart might finally do her in if I told her."

His voice was quiet and Kurt couldn't quite tell if he was being serious. He decided to just assume so. "Well, you're always welcome here."

"Thanks," Dave said, sincerely. "That… means a lot to me."

"And," Kurt added, taking a step toward Dave. "I'm sorry for whatever my dad said earlier. He's a well-intentioned guy but you've seen how he can be, uh, pretty straightforward." An incident from the year before rose immediately to mind but Kurt pushed it away.

Dave's eyebrows rose, looking surprised. Evasively, he said, "Oh, that was… It was nothing."

"Really?"

"Yep," Dave said simply. Kurt didn't buy it but he didn't press the issue, deciding not to ruin what had been a good night by trying to pull too much information from the other boy. Dave checked his watch briefly. "Crap, it's getting later than I thought. I should probably get home."

Kurt looked at the clock on the wall, noting that it was almost nine. He couldn't help but be slightly disappointed that Dave was leaving, though he wholly understood. So he merely said, "I'll walk you out."

As they walked through to the entrance hall, Dave poked his head into the living room and thanked Kurt's dad and Carole for inviting him over, casually saying goodbye to Finn and Rachel. When they reach the door, he shrugs his jacket back over his—Kurt stops himself from thinking _his muscular shoulders_. That's not where his head needs to be right now. Before he has time to admonish himself, they're standing outside in the crisp November air.

Dave looks down at him. "So."

"Thanks again for com—"

"I never asked why you invited me."

"What?" Kurt was taken aback but tried to mask his confusion with a shrug. "That's what friends do. Is they want to spend time with each other."

Dave seems to struggle for a moment but then gives his head a slight shake. "Well, thanks. There aren't a lot of people lining up to be my friend right now."

"Well, you always have me."

There is a pause where neither boy seems to have anything to say then, before he really thought about what he was doing, Kurt stepped forward and cautiously placed a hand on Dave's shoulder. About two seconds later, they were in an awkward hug. Kurt wasn't sure who had instigated it—maybe it had been a combination of both of their actions. And it was very brief. As he pulled away, he could tell that it had been as much of a shock for Dave as himself.

In the dim light, he could make out a blush creeping onto Dave's face and realized that his own face was growing warm. Not wanting an awkward silence to fall, Kurt asked hastily, "Keep in touch?"

When Dave spoke, his voice was well-metered, surprisingly more controlled than Kurt's own. "You say that like I haven't."

Kurt gave a shaky laugh. "I guess that's true. See you soon, Dave."

"You too, Hummel."

As he watched Dave descend the steps, hop in his car and drive away, Kurt tried to ignore the lingering feeling of his arms wrapped around him. But as he watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, he couldn't help but think, for a passing moment, that it had been a really nice and really needed hug.


End file.
